


Unspoken

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mute!Daryl, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:19:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick wakes from his coma alone and confused. The first two survivors he meets are the Dixon brothers, one loud and obnoxious, the other so incredibly opposite that he's literally mute. Rick convinces them to help him on his sole mission in life--to find his son. As they search, a bond develops between Rick and Daryl. Will they find Carl? Will they find each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed fic that will be posted one chapter a day for the next 20 days. 
> 
> I have a thing for Norman Reedus' fingers and the way he always talks with his hands in interviews. Because of that, I had to write a fic where he uses sign language!
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta reader and bestie, Skarlatha for steering me in the right direction on things and for asking all the right questions to get this as good as It can be. (And also spelling and grammar-- like probably a LOT!)

I remember being shot. And that’s all. Next I knew, I woke alone, sweating, a catheter somehow pulled out of me, leaving me lying in probably a week’s worth of piss. Dead flowers, an empty IV and a ticking clock.

I called for the nurse. Pressed buttons. Used my sore, dry throat to holler. I heard nothing in return. I tried the phones. Dead. I tried the TV. Every channel was what Carl would call Fuzz.

Carl. That was my first motivator to shake off the paralyzing confusion. One look out the window confirmed that all was not well. Cars were crashed into one another, some still smoldering. And not a single soul walked by below. No firefighters. No onlookers. No staff. No crowd control.

As I moved into the hall it looked like a bomb had gone off. Papers were everywhere. Gurneys knocked to the side. Blood. Bodies. Almost every one of them succumbed to a head wound. The smell was awful, like that time a mouse died somewhere in our kitchen wall in the dead of summer. But this was eight million times worse.

Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered above me. But I moved with purpose and with one thought filling my head like gasoline in a car. Carl. My son. I had to get to my son. I came to a door with a message painted across it: “Don’t Open, Dead Inside.”

I hadn’t yet seen my first walker. Hadn’t connected the dots that it wasn’t a bomb or a plane that crashed into King’s County Hospital. It was a goddamn world-wide apocalypse.

“Hello?” I yelled to no one. And instantly the chained doors rattled. Moans filled the air. Dozens of... voices, moaning and antsy. Bluish fingers slipped through the cracks of the door. I stood frozen. Confused. I stumbled away from the door and backed into an overturned wheelchair, losing my footing and landing hard on the linoleum, pain shooting through my hip as it connected with the floor. I scooted back away from the bulging doors.

Home. I needed to get home. I needed to find Carl. And Lori. I made my way to a stairwell and hollered into the darkness to confirm there weren’t any... Dead, reanimated like the ones belonging to fingers that reached between the crack of the other door.

When no noise returned, I ran down quickly in complete darkness, hand gripping that rail like I was holding on, dangling from a helicopter and if I let go, I’d surely fall to my death.

Outside in the sunshine, the hospital lawn was rows... fucking rows… of covered corpses. My body wasn’t in prime condition--I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been in a coma. Weeks? Months? I stumbled, barefoot and wearing nothing but a thin green hospital gown. I walked towards my home. Each street was exactly the same. Car crashes. Corpses. Blood. Disorder. Chaos. Abandoned suitcases. But not a single living soul. Or even a dead one.

And then I saw one. A walking nothing. A once-man, now empty-eyed, moaning and focused on me. My smell? My movement maybe? I looked around me for a weapon and reached into an open trunk for a tire iron.

He moved slow. Dressed in jeans, a torn blue button-up, one black shoe and one bare foot, and he had some intestines hanging out from one side, dangling past the untucked shirt.

“What happened to you?” I asked, brows furrowed in sympathy. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer, but I had to be sure this wasn’t a real person. I tried to sidestep and walk around him, but it was clear, he wasn’t going to stop following me. I swung the tire iron into his head and he went down. The end of it was stuck. I had to press a bare foot on his head to yank my only weapon back out.

I leaned down to make sure there were no more moans or movements. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I was scared.”

About five miles from home, I started trying cars. I still walked with a limp and held onto my side where I had some discomfort. A fresh bruise was spreading across my hip. Most of the vehicles were too damaged. Some were abandoned and the keys were nowhere to be found. My error was putting too much focus on finding a ride and not keeping a lookout for more of these walking dead.

I slid out of another car that wouldn’t start. And three of the walkers were practically on top of me. I kicked at one and it fell to the ground, then I swung at another with the tire iron and got his neck. Hard. But the walker didn’t even seem to register the pain. The third had grabbed my other arm and snapping teeth grew closer and closer to my flesh as I kicked at it and took another swing at the other. I connected with nothing that time. And then the third was back on its feet.

I was completely disoriented. I heard my own voice. Panicked. Frightened. Making only sounds, not real words. And as I was about to watch my left arm become a dead man’s dinner, I heard a woosh and a thud and saw the business end of an arrow come through the forehead of the hungry persistent fucker on my arm and he dropped like a stone. I swung the tire iron at the skull of the next closest and heard the soft thwap of a silencer being fired and the third that was on his way back to me dropped. I pulled my tire iron out with more ease this time and scanned the perimeter for my guardian angels.

“Hello?” I asked into the empty street. My eye caught movement coming around the side of a nearby house. Two men. One shorter, longish hair, crossbow over his shoulder, intensity worn on his face as thickly as a woolen sweater. The other was older, taller, broader and looked like about any one of a thousand King’s County good ole’ boys that probably served a night or two in the drunk tank.

“Fuck you doin’, man?” the taller, angry one asked.

“Thank you. Thank you, both.” I looked down at the carnage at my feet. “Wouldn’t have... wouldn’t have been able to get out of that alone.”

“The fuck you wearing?” the same man asked as both got closer.

“I ...” I looked down at my gown and realized how ridiculous I must look. “I just woke up today. In a hospital. Was shot. Coma I think. What… what day is it?”

“Ain’t no such thing as days anymore, bro. Monday, Sunday... Don’t fuckin’ matter no more. Each day’s the same. Survive.” He spit after his eloquent redneck soliloquy and wiped his mouth on his bare arm.

“How long? How long...had this been going on?”

The taller one laughed, if you could call it that. More like a cough and a hack and a hiccup, but I could tell from his expression that he was laughing. “You ain’t kiddin? You been knocked out all this fucking time?”

I moved my eyes to the silent one. I wished he was the designated spokesperson. He seemed much more even-keeled. Calm. I could see by the depth in his ocean-blue eyes that he was compassionate and more patient and understanding than his louder counterpart.

After a moment without my response the loud one said, “Like probably three or four months by now, man.” He almost sounded sympathetic. Then movement caught my eye and the loudmouth and I both looked to the quieter man as his fingers sailed eloquently through the air like he was directing an orchestra.

“My brother says it’s been four. Months.”

“He deaf?” I asked, turning back to the talker.

“Always assumin’, you people. He’s mute. Can hear ya just fine. Lucky for you cause I had no intention a’ coming to your damn rescue. My brother, he’s always been the sweet one.”

I looked into the mute man’s smoldering blue eyes and nodded, “Thank you.” He nodded back and I read the ‘you’re welcome’ in his gaze. I also read an apology for his brother’s douche-baggery. An apology the poor guy probably had to make all the time.

I looked from one set of blue eyes to the other. “I’m Rick Grimes.”

“Good for you,” the talker said with a sneer. The quiet one flew hands at his brother with angry eyes and challenging body language.

“Whatever!” he yelled and then turned back to me. “Merle,” he grumbled pointing to himself. “And Daryl. Dixon.” he finished, pointing at his crossbow-carrying brother.

Daryl’s hands flew in the air again making signals to his brother.

“Fuck, Darlina. He don’t even have pants much less a fuckin’ weapon. He’s a liability not a fuckin’ help.”

“I do,” I jumped in. “ I live five miles away. Got food, weapons. Guns and ammo. And pants,” I said trying to make a joke. Daryl smirked a half-grin at my attempt at levity.

“Fine,” Merle said, acting like I was asking for a ride all the way to the Canadian border. We got bikes. Can’t get vehicles through this fuckin’ mess. But Daryl,” he turned towards his brother, “Tire iron is ridin’ with you.”

Daryl nodded and tilted his head in the direction of their bikes.

“We’re gonna want to be off the streets after dark anyway,” Merle said as if he had to make a reason for teaming up that wasn’t just to be a kind, generous human being.

The next street over, Merle asked me for the basic directions to my home and took the lead. I climbed on the back of Daryl’s bike, timidly gripping onto his hips to steady myself. “Thank you,” I whispered again. And I saw Daryl nod in front of me as we jolted forward in the bike.


	2. Photos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always hats off to Skarlatha for beta'ing!

As we pulled up to my house my stomach sank. Lori’s car was gone and the garage door was left open. As the three of us walked to the front door I picked up Carl’s bicycle from the driveway out of habit and wheeled it into the garage. Neither Dixon mentioned it and I was thankful.

I opened the unlocked door. “Carl!!? Lori?”

Merle pushed me aside and entered first. “You dumb fuck, gotta clear it first.” He went in, gun up and aimed. Daryl put a hand on my chest to get my attention and I looked to him. He put a finger to his lips to hush me and then used the same finger to indicate ‘just a minute’ and pointed to the foyer for me to stay put. I nodded. Daryl moved behind Merle, the heavy, bulky crossbow up and aimed in strong arms that were tan or dirty or both. I could tell that this man--both of these men--had adjusted already to life in the apocalypse.

After ten minutes of two redneck strangers moving silently through my home like hunters through a forest, Merle called, “All clear” from my kitchen. His mouth sounded full as he said it and when I walked into the room he was cramming a fistful of Cheetos into his mouth.

“Found the food. How ‘bout the pants and weapons... In that order please,” Merle said as orange Cheeto dust painted his lips.

Daryl was at the pantry and held up a can of tuna with an expression on his face, clearly asking permission to eat it. I nodded. “Sure, man. Help yourself. Saved my life. Owe ya forever now.” He shook his head almost imperceptibly as if to say ‘it was nothing,’ and made a motion with his hand from his chin then extending out towards me. A sign, I assumed. Thank you, maybe.

Doors and drawers clanged as Merle rooted through the kitchen. With that rough, scratchy laugh of his, he pulled out a liquor bottle from the cabinet over the stove.

“Dewar’s! Sweet! I figure we’ll hunker down here for the night,” he said as he waltzed off with the rest of the Cheetos tucked under his arm, twisting off the top of the full bottle of scotch.

I looked at Daryl who was quietly eating tuna straight from the can with his fingers. I thought about offering a fork, but hell, he was almost done. I realized I probably hadn’t eaten solid food in four months so I opened the pantry and reached for a box of saltines.

“No offense, but is your brother always a dick?” I asked.

Daryl looked at me with a ducked head, eyes hidden under his lashes and long strands of hair. He nodded and grinned.

I sat at the table and he joined me. I put a row of crackers in front of him and one in front of me and he nodded a thank you and started eating.

Lori always kept a notepad and pen in the napkin holder at the center of the table, and as expected, there it was. I pushed it toward my quiet friend.

“You should always keep pen and paper on you. What if you got separated from your brother and had to communicate?”

He licked salt from the crackers off his fingers and took the pen, scribbling quick and sloppy on the pale blue notepad that said ‘Save the Whales’ at the top.

I peered over as he finished and flipped it in my direction.

YOU SHOULD WEAR PANTS.

I laughed for the first time since I woke up into this nightmare. “Fair enough,” I said. “I’m gonna clean up and get dressed. Help yourself to anything.”

\--------------

After I washed up and checked my wounds, I decided that if I wore my uniform, other stragglers would trust us. I dressed and holstered on my service weapon and put my two personal rifles and every box of shells I owned in a duffle bag.

I heard the Dixons talking in the kitchen as I came down the stairs. Well, I heard one Dixon.

The conversation came to a complete halt when I walked into the room. Both men stared at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?” he repeated in that gravelly, crass sounding voice. “We saved a mother-fucking PIG?!” He shoved Daryl in the shoulder.

I raised my hands to indicate that I meant neither any harm. “We’re on the same side now, Merle. You ain’t got nothing to worry about from me.”

“Well, you got something to worry about from me cause I hate fuckin’ cops. Look what good you fuckers did a’ protectin’ us from this mess we all in now.”

Daryl shoved back at Merle to get his attention and danced his fingers in the air with agitation.

“Friendly? Fuck, Daryl. You gonna trust the wrong people one day, boy. Only people you can trust in this world’s kin and I’m all you got, baby brother.”

Daryl responded and I hated that I couldn’t understand him. I desperately wished I’d have somehow learned sign language in my life. I wanted so much to be able to communicate with the nicer, more stable of these two strangers. I could tell scribbling notes was a hassle for Daryl and I felt like I owed it to him to start to learn how to communicate his way.

“Oh settle the fuck down, Darlina. We’ll fucking stick with Officer Friendly here.” He looked at me. “You got the guns? Ammo?" I unzipped the duffel at my feet and Merle peeked in with a disappointed frown. "We’re gonna need a shit of a lot more’n what you got stuffed in that bag. They ain’t too bad three or four at a time but Daryl and me... We seen ‘em by the dozens.”

“Tomorrow we can go to the station. See what’s left.”

Merle nodded. “Alright. Me and Dewar’s here are claiming the guest room. You two can fight out who has watch first and second. I’ll take first shift tomorrow night. Tonight I’m on vacation.” He tipped the bottle to his lips and guzzled, heading for the stairs.

I turned to Daryl. “I been asleep four months. I’ll take the first shift, you can get some rest. My son’s room...” I stopped in my sentence. Carl. I was going to have to convince these guys to help me find my son. “You can sleep there if you want.”

He nodded.

“Daryl. He gonna soften up any?”

He started to sign then seemed to realize it was pointless.

“Where’s the notepad?” I asked.

He shrugged and walked back to the kitchen table to look for it. He sat and scribbled and handed me his note.

NO. ALWAYS A DICK. BUT ALWAYS LOOKS OUT FOR ME. SORRY ABOUT HIM.

I read it, crumbled it and tossed it in the trash.

“‘S ok. Kin is kin. I can tell you guys rely on each other. I kinda prefer you though, if I’m bein’ honest.”

He smiled. He had a gentle and sincere smile that I could tell wasn’t often used. Hard men like this… life didn’t start being hard for them since the end of the world. They’ve always had it hard. And they were clearly built to survive.

RAISED ME, he scribbled and then shrugged at me.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s got good in him under the asshole exterior. Patient with you. Cares about you. I know his kind. Wants to be badder than he is.”

AIN’T NO ANGEL. JUVI FOR 2 YRS. PRISON FOR 10.

“What for?” I asked.

DRUGS. CAR THEFTS.

I nodded. “Well, good. Could use someone knows how to jump start a car now, right?” He grinned at me, a smile that lit all the way up through his eyes. “I’ll sit out on the upper deck and watch. Grab some sleep.” I stood and he scribbled a last quick note.

USE SILENCER. NOISE DRAWS THEM.

I nodded and he nodded back.

\--------------

Sitting on my second level deck alone was eerie. The streets were empty and a silence hung in the air thicker than any I’d ever known before. And I felt so alone. My neighbors were gone. My son. Lori. I had nothing.

But I did have hope. The missing row of photo albums and the framed pictures removed from the living room weren’t lost on me. Lori and Carl got out and likely had a plan. They would have listened to the authorities. If the reports were instructing civilians to make their way to a certain shelter, that’s what they would have done. I’d have to ask the Dixons what the media was reporting in the end. And then I’d convince them to help me. This was no longer a world to live in or move around in alone. We needed numbers, needed people, needed to trust and help each other and that would be the only way we’d survive. I felt a connection to the younger Dixon. We seemed to be on the same page. The loud one was going to be tricky, but I needed men like these. I could not do this on my own.

A creak from the bedroom floor behind me pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Daryl. He stood there, awkward and bashful, and pointed to the other chair on the deck. I nodded and he quietly sat down beside me. “Can’t sleep?” I asked.

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the horizon then leaning forward and peering up and down the street.

“Or don’t trust me to know what to look for yet?” He just smiled and sat back in the chair. He had a photo in his hand. I recognized the frame from where I sat. It was the one Carl kept in his room of he and I on a Cub Scout trip. Daryl saw me notice and he held it up, pointed to Carl, then to me.

“Yeah. That’s Carl, my son.” He kept his eyes on me like he wanted me to keep talking. And since he couldn’t, I did. “He’s twelve.” I looked up and down the street then continued. “He loved… loves camping. He’s a Boy Scout now. Good boy. Smart. Maybe the survival stuff in Boy Scouts will help him now.” I looked over and Daryl nodded.

“Photo albums were gone, and some of the family photos in the living room. They made it out. They went somewhere. They might still be alive.” Daryl pointed to Carl, then to himself then to me, then down the road. “You’ll help me?” I asked. My voice cracked a bit. Talking about Carl welled me up with emotion. My new friend nodded. “Merle gonna be OK going along with that?” Daryl brushed a hand as if to say, ‘don’t worry about him, I’ll handle it.’ I smiled. “Glad you guys found me. Be alone if you hadn’t. I wouldn’t be good alone.”

Daryl pointed to the photo again. To me in the picture, then Carl, then the empty space next to us and his eyebrows furrowed in question. “Asking about Lori? My wife?” The archer nodded. “Lori. Yeah. We uh… we weren’t doing good before I was shot. Divorcing. We hadn’t told Carl yet, but she’d already been looking for an apartment and we both had lawyers. Said I wasn’t good at communicating. She always wanted to talk everything to death. Just typical stuff. Didn’t help her empty the dishwasher. Some crazy shit about how I didn’t argue with her enough and that meant I didn’t care. I dunno. Really, on my side… I just… I just didn’t love her anymore. Does that make me an asshole?” I looked to the younger Dixon with the question still in my eyes.

Daryl shook his head no and I took comfort in his answer.

“You married?” I asked him. He looked away and shook his head. “How ‘bout Merle?” Daryl laughed like he hadn’t expected the question at all and he found it hilarious. No sound came out though. Just his smile and his expression and the way his body shook from from the giggles. I started laughing with him. “Yeah, guess that was a dumb question.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for another half an hour and then Daryl stood. “Get some sleep,” I said. And he nodded and handed me the photo of my son. He came back a few minutes later with a piece of paper.

WAKE ME AT 2 FOR MY SHIFT.

I nodded.

\--------------

At two I was tired. My body, my mind... I was absolutely exhausted. I checked the streets, then went back to Carl’s room to wake Daryl for his shift. At the door I saw that he hadn’t even so much as removed his shoes. He laid flat on his back, fully dressed with his crossbow still in his hands. His eyelids were wild with REM, and I hated to wake him. I took another step and hit a creaky floorboard. His eyes opened and he jumped up almost ready to aim the crossbow before he saw it was me.

“Sorry,” I said. He waved it off and patted my back as he moved past me, understanding without words that it was his shift.

I walked to the guestroom out of habit and found a lightly snoring Merle in my spot. I trudged back to the master bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed. I hadn’t slept in this room for months, even before the coma.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get into that bed. My combination of being over Lori and yet being worried and desperate to find her was incredibly confusing. But the one thought that wasn’t confusing was Carl. I went back to his room, put the picture on the nightstand and laid down in the spot Daryl had just vacated. I left on my shoes and clothes too, assuming that was standard operating procedure in this new world. I curled to my side. The bed smelled like Daryl. Like outdoors and dirt and fresh air. Like quiet, if quiet had a smell. He saved my life and I found the scent of him surprisingly comforting and safe as I fell asleep with thoughts of finding Carl.


	3. Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your daily dose of Rickyl! Hope you enjoy. Thanks to skarlatha as always! You guys know all the reasons why!

For as quiet as the younger Dixon was, the older one more than made up for it. I woke to a jostle as Merle kicked at the bottom of the bed.

“Time ta get up, sleepin’ beauty,” he growled. “Gotta get up with the sun. Take advantage of the time we got vision.”

I sat up and rubbed crusty sleep from my eyes and looked behind him. “Where’s Daryl?” Christ knows I didn’t want to be left alone with just Merle. Daryl may be mute but he was definitely the easier one to communicate with.

“You his babysitter now, friendly?”

“Nah, just...”

Merle started walking away before I could finish my sentence. “He’s downstairs looking for something edible for breakfast. You guys eat some weird shit. What the fuck is almond milk?” I scrambled out of bed and followed Merle.

We sat at the kitchen table like some bizarre apocalyptic family. Me and two guys I never would have crossed paths with in the old world. Unless it was arresting the older of the two.

Daryl was licking at a spoonful of peanut butter. Merle was on his third strawberry Pop Tart. And I was pouring warm almond milk over Corn Flakes.

“So, what were they sayin’ on the radio and TV towards the end? Were they telling people where to go? Are there shelters set up?” I asked, purposefully talking with my mouth full to make myself seem more like Merle so I could garner his favor. Daryl smirked. I think he was on to me.

Merle sighed heavily. “They didn’t know what the fuck was goin’ on, man. Happened so fast. It was like... Two days after you heard the first weird story about a walking corpse you were seeing ‘em everywhere.”

Daryl started signing and Merle turned to him, clearly accustomed to noticing his movements from the corner of his eye. The older sibling grunted in agreement.

“What did he say?” I asked, trying just to be casually curious to cover for the fact that I wanted to ring Merle’s neck for not automatically translating.

“Last he ‘members they was telling folks to head to Fort Benning on the outskirts of Atlanta.”

I nodded and shoveled another spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

“That what you guys are doing?” I asked.

Daryl nodded and Merle shook his head no.

“Fuck that,” Merle answered. “Daryl and I know how ta live just fine on our own. We can hunt, shoot, fend for ourselves. Don’t need ta find a huddled group a’ pussies need takin’ care of.”

And before he finished, the Dixons were at it again, Daryl’s hands flying, and Merle yelling back and signing with it even though he didn’t need to.

“Guys?” I said quietly and they both stopped. I pointed to the sliding glass door with my spoon where two walkers had followed Merle’s loud bellows. They just bumped stupidly into the glass, and I was already losing my sympathy for them. I was really working hard at getting Merle to become my ally and this interruption was not going to help.

I stood and both of the Dixons did as well. Daryl put the crossbow over his shoulder and headed for the front door.

“Going upstairs ta get a bird’s eye view. See if we got a herd of ‘em on the way,” Merle grunted. He turned to me over his shoulder. “Friendly, get your duffle with the weapons and be ready to roll if we gotta.” And he disappeared up the stairs. I watched the two walkers drop outside on my patio and Daryl appeared and put a foot to each skull to retrieve his bolts.

“Gotta go, Friendly!” Merle hollered, stomping down the stairs. I grabbed the peanut butter and the box of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen table, added them to my duffle and headed out the front behind Merle without question.

I turned to shut the door and realized I was leaving my home forever. With nothing more than the clothes on my back and my weapons. And fucking peanut butter and pop tarts. My thoughts and movements slipped into slow motion, like I was back in a bad dream. I left the door hanging open as Daryl grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me to his bike. I saw a pack of them coming down the road. Not a pack. More like a herd, like Merle said. A hundred easily. Maybe more. Several were way too close for comfort.

Daryl motioned for me to wear my duffle like a backpack and helped me get on the bike once I was off balance with the heavy pack lopsided over my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around Daryl without any hesitation this time. Not with the risk of being eaten alive if I fell. The sound of the bikes seemed to give the walkers a little extra enthusiasm.

We took off, weaving through traffic, Merle in the lead, leaving my home, then my street, then my neighborhood. Leaving everything I knew behind.

\--------------

About an hour later, I’d calculated we’d gone about twenty miles. Merle finally pulled over in front of a shitty looking no-name motel. They advertised free HBO, but I had a feeling that was no longer an up-to-date advertisement. Vacancy sign was probably accurate though.

Daryl popped out the kickstand and immediately helped me take off the heavy, awkward bag. Concern shadowed his eyes as he pointed at my shoulders. “‘S fine,” I answered as I rolled them and stretched my neck back and forth. “Thanks.”

Merle walked over to us. “Well, that all went to hell. Police station you was talkin’ bout’s prob’ly hours away now and back in a direction we best not go.”

“Merle,” I said, no longer affording myself the luxury of getting him in the right mood. “We passed a sign for Fort Benning. It ain’t that far. We should try for it. See about others.” I talked over him before he could complete a sentence. “Think about your brother. You two are fine now. What if something happens to you and he’s all alone? Can’t communicate, can’t--” Before I could finish Daryl had slammed both hands into my chest to push me back and started signing at me like a madman.

Merle laughed his bitter, smoky, redneck laugh. “You done pissed ‘im off now, Friendly.”

“Shit,” I muttered. Daryl’s eyes were burning into me and I read in them an idea of what I’d done wrong. “What’s he sayin’, Merle?” I sighed, hating to ask this asshole for help.

“Exactly what you think. That he ain’t a fuckin’ china doll needs takin’ care of. He can take care of himself and he don’t need ta be babied and he don’t need you ta be protectin’ him like he’s a blind 90-year-old nun. Also--he thinks you’re an asshole.”

“He said all that?” I asked looking back to Daryl. Merle’s sarcastic translation took Daryl’s wrath off me and put it square back on his brother and the younger man’s fingers went flying again.

“Fine! Jesus!” Merle shouted turning to me. “I made up the asshole part. And I took some liberties with the translation, but the gist is--he ain’t a fucking baby.”

I latched on to Daryl’s eyes with mine so he could feel my sincerity. “I’m sorry, Daryl.” He nodded then went over to the motel office and nodded again for us to follow him in and clear it.

After we did, Merle took a bat from behind the front desk and liberated a few soda and snack machines.

“We got plenty of daylight left. Let’s head to Benning,” I said, getting impatient.

“You’re a hard-headed motherfucker,” Merle said, completely calm.

“It’s my son, Merle. My KIN,” I pleaded, using his terminology. Another attempt to bond with him. “My only kin and he’s a CHILD.”

Daryl just watched us cautiously from under his long bangs. He’d found a pad and pen behind the counter and was biting on the end of the pen cap as we talked.

Merle’s expression grew soft, almost sympathetic. “Man, I’m not trying to be a dick, but you gotta know the chances of him bein’ alive are slim.”

I stood tall and took the emotional punch to the gut, stiffening my lips so they wouldn’t quiver into sobs. “Have to try. I’ll go alone if you don’t want to come, but I’m taking my guns and ammo.”

“Calm down, Friendly. We’ll go. ‘F there’s survivors maybe some of ‘em got nice tits.”

Daryl shook his head and rolled his eyes and I tried not to hug Merle.

My smile almost hurt it was so wide. “Let’s go!” I said, strangely cheerful for the apocalypse.

Daryl grabbed some maps and brochures from the stand at the desk and started flipping through them. He opened a map and started studying it. Merle started eating a Snickers bar as we watched patiently.

Daryl found a brochure that got his interest and handed it to Merle without looking up from the map.

“Shootin’ range.” Merle said.

Daryl circled the spot on the map where the range was and circled Fort Benning. Then put an “x” where we were.

“Sounds like a good plan, Daryl.” I smiled. “Let’s roll.” I stuffed as much of the candy, water and sodas as I could in my duffle, weighing it down even more, but with the Dixon brothers both firmly on board with my mission to find Carl, I had a second wind, and my shoulders were eager to bear the burden again. I almost craved the feeling of the narrow straps digging into the flesh of my shoulders because it meant we were on the move and on the way to find my boy.

Daryl and Merle walked out ahead of me and I saw the pad and pen left on the counter instead of tucked into one of Daryl’s pockets like it should be. This was my first clue that he probably didn’t have many people in the before-life. Never had much need for communicating with many folks besides his brother. And I started to wonder more about my new partners, my apocalyptic teammates. Who were they before all this?

Merle wasn’t too hard to figure and Daryl already let me know that he spent a portion of time behind bars. But Daryl... What did he do? Who did he communicate with on a daily basis? What were his friends like? What was his life like? I put the pad and pen in my own pocket instead of reprimanding my new friend. No sense in offending him twice in one day. Especially when they were with me. With me on my mission to find Carl. I smiled again as I walked out the door. I had hope when I saw the photo albums were gone and now I had a plan and a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so thrilled to see in comments that this fic is working! Love hearing from you guys and hope you'll keep reading and enjoying. (And hope you'll drop me a line with your thoughts and comments if you have time!) 
> 
> I totally write for the pleasure of it and enjoy it for myself, but knowing y'all are getting enjoyment out of my hobby makes it really awesome for me!! Thanks so much, you guys!!


	4. Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to skarlatha for beta'ing this fic and for crushing my soul with her one-shot yesterday. Check out her latest fic, guys- but read with Kleenex- it is a beautifully artsy death fic, no happy ending. But it's a great cry!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4686470/chapters/10697888?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_38104769

The ride to Fort Benning did not go as well as I'd hoped. Several of the roads were so thick with abandoned cars that we had to push the bikes through sloped grassy embankments. 

When we were moving slower like that, we could see quite a few cars with re-animated corpses trapped inside. 

"Should we put 'em down?" I asked the Dixons as we walked, each brother pushing his bike at an awkward, dangerous angle and me shouldering the heavy awkward duffle behind them.

"Too much risk," Merle grunted from up ahead.

"Seems sad to leave them like that for eternity. I'd want to be put down," I said.

Merle mumbled something I couldn't quite make out, but I did hear the words "bleeding heart" and "asshole".

As we passed another, I stopped. It was an older model station wagon and the sole occupant in the back seat was young. A boy. And he was wearing a Boy Scout uniform as his dead hands tried to reach through the closed window. 

Daryl noticed too and looked back at me. I stood, staring. It wasn't him. This kid was blonde ...had been blonde anyway, now just dead. And probably a couple years younger than Carl. I looked to Daryl and he shook his head knowing it wasn't my boy from the picture.

"No," I answered. "Not Carl." But I stayed rooted in the ground, my eyes on this young boy, watching like a train wreck, unable to take my eyes away. Daryl pounded on the seat of his bike to get my attention and waved me over to him. He motioned for me to hold the bike steady so I put the bag down and did as he asked. "Need a break?" I asked. He didn't answer or even look my way.

He stepped up onto the road, grabbed a knife from its sheath on his belt and flung the station wagon door open. He stepped back and as the young scout clambered out, Daryl grabbed onto the blonde strands of hair to restrain him and slowly pressed his knife in through the top of the boy's skull. I looked over at Merle who had stopped to wait but was rolling his eyes. The Boy Scout dropped lifelessly to the ground and Daryl re-sheathed his weapon and headed back to me. 

"Thank you," I said, my voice coming out softer and sadder than I expected. He nodded as he walked back around to take control of the bike again.

"Ya gonna risk your fucking life every time the sheriff here starts poutin'?" Merle yells.

Daryl finally used a sign I knew, middle finger extended towards his brother. 

"Hey, I know that one!" I said, and Daryl glanced over his shoulder to smile at me as he took back over pushing the bike.

Our planned route had to be altered completely. Some roads were totally impassable with no shoulder room to even push the bikes. And a few spots took us up over a ridge allowing us to see walkers in the distance. Too many to ride into. We found ourselves lost and on back roads, riding the bikes again, at least, instead of pushing . On a gravel back road, Merle pulled over about 50 yards away from an RV that was stopped right in the middle of the road. We followed suit. We were in the middle of nowhere. The door of the RV was open and rattled gently with the breeze. 

As we approached, all our weapons aimed and at the ready, we saw two teens and a woman in the road, bullets to brains. We heard the unmistakable sound of a single walker moaning and we stood motionless, waiting for it to appear. When nothing came, I moved to peer behind the camper and I dropped my gun at the sight. The Dixons followed and watched with me as a dead man hung from a tree with a rope around his neck groaning and reaching and kicking. 

I jumped as Merle shot him between the eyes and the reanimated body stopped moving. I looked at the older Dixon curiously.

"Wasn't a fucking pity shot, Friendly. I's sick a' hearin' his mouth. Losing light and this RV's gonna be home for the night." He walked over to the open door of the vehicle with caution, gun still drawn. "Fuckin' pussy goin' out like that," he mumbled to himself before he stepped inside.

We were losing light, it was true. And we were so disoriented from the road changes. We did need time to rest and eat and re-evaluate the map. I didn't want to stop. Every second we weren't moving was time Carl could be alone, could be scared. Lori too. But I couldn't find them if I was dead, so I agreed to the stop. Not that I had a choice. Merle wanted to stop, we kinda had to stop.

\--------------

That night we stayed in the RV. We ate spoonfuls of peanut butter, ate some graham crackers we found in the cupboards of the motor home and sipped sparingly at our bottled water. Daryl wanted to hunt in the morning, get us some real protein--rabbit or squirrel or deer if we were lucky. Merle kept his word for first watch and sat on the roof to keep an eye out. I offered to take the second half of watch so Daryl could sleep before going out. 

Daryl and I sat in the only bed in the back playing cards by the light of a mostly full moon. Blackjack. He won every single hand even though I took three times as long to decide if I wanted another card or not. After a while I just shuffled the cards to keep my hands busy. Daryl sat beside me, quiet. 

"Feel naked w'thout even a wallet on me. 'S weird," I said. He nodded in agreement, or at least in understanding. I sighed and I felt my eyes stinging with the thought of tears before I could even say my next words. "Could kick myself..." I took a deep breath again to steady my voice, "for not putting that picture of me and Carl in my pocket this morning. Got nothing now. Got nothing of him." I was able to keep my voice fairly steady, but a tear had escaped me and I felt it slowly trail down my cheek. I made no move to wipe it away. 

Daryl jumped up and dug into a back pocket with that lopsided grin of his. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. My jaw dropped and another tear followed the first as I held out a page from Carl's yearbook, edge jagged from being ripped out and his smiling face circled in red pen.

"Where did you get this? Why..."

He started signing and then stopped, frustrated and looking around, most likely for pen and paper. I dug in my pocket and threw the pen and paper at him. I couldn't scold him again for not having any on him. I was just so damn happy to be looking at my son's face. 

Daryl scribbled animatedly, ripped off the page and handed it to me.

NOSING IN HIS ROOM. FOUND AND TOOK WITH IN CASE ANYTHING HAPPENED TO YOU. I COULD STILL KNOW WHO TO LOOK FOR.

I was awestruck at the kindness of strangers and the beautiful things that can grow out of the end of the world like a delicate flower unexpectedly raising up in the middle of thorny weeds. I met this man yesterday. Literally yesterday. And he'd decided to take my mission on as his own, even if I succumbed to my death in the search. How do you thank someone for that? How do you...how do you explain the depths of that gratitude?

"I don't know what to say, Daryl. That's the kindest... The… The..." I was literally at a loss for words. He took the cards from my hands and shuffled, dealing out one up and one down. I kept Carl's picture on my lap and wiped the tears away. I checked my cards. Seven showing and king in my hand. I did the math, thought about the odds. Looked at Daryl's visible card. A Jack. Re-did the math in my head. Thought about his hand. Tried to read his expression. It seemed like I may have just missed an eye roll.

"Hit me." It was a five. "Goddammit," I muttered. "I haven't won a single damn hand. Good thing we ain't bettin'."

Daryl scribbled and handed me another note.

YOU THINK TOO MUCH.

"Yeah. That may be." I smiled. 

The archer boxed up the cards and laid down on his side of the bed, crossbow over his stomach. I folded Carl's yearbook page, put it in my pocket and stretched out beside him, conscious to make sure I was far enough away that we didn't touch. Weird enough riding bitch on his bike all day, didn't want to accidentally wake up with an arm thrown over him. 

Well, it felt like it should be weird on that bike together. But really, I'd grown quite comfortable sitting behind him with my hands holding onto his hips. It was... Comfortable. Nice. And that in itself was actually weird. 

I wondered what it meant. Wondered why it was that I felt so in tune and connected to him almost instantly. We came from incredibly different backgrounds. Had nothing really in common, right? Except for the will to live. And I wondered why those rare smiles of his made me feel like I just shot a three-pointer from center court. 

Wondered why he did the things he did for me. Putting down the Boy Scout. Keeping Carl's picture. Was this the beginning of a friendship? Shane, my partner on the force, had been my best, and really only friend, nearly all my life and I couldn't picture riding a bike with him. Or laying in the same bed without it feeling awkward. Laying like this next to Daryl... it wasn't awkward. It was... peaceful. Shane was my friend because we had history. Daryl and I didn't have history. So what was this connection? I blinked, wide awake and mind racing as I lay still, listening to Daryl's breath as it grew into the soft, quiet pattern of sleep.

Maybe I did think too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak preview of next chapter- Merle and Rick do some talking!
> 
> Hope you all are still enjoying the ride!


	5. Sympathy for Merle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skarlatha rocks, as you know.

Somehow I woke on my own and squinted at my watch. 1:58 a.m. I got out of bed quietly so I wouldn't wake Daryl and climbed up to the top of the RV to relieve Merle from his shift on watch. 

"Hey, Friendly," he said in a tired voice, no hint of sarcasm or snark anywhere. 

"Seen anything?" I asked as I sat on the roof beside him.

"Ain't seen shit but moths and mosquitos." 

"I got it for the rest of the night," I said. "Get some sleep." I took a chance at comradery and clapped him on the shoulder.

He grunted with a nod but kept his gaze on the horizon. He sat with me quietly for a moment and I was amazed he was capable of such silence. 

"You ain't wrong," he said quietly, "'bout Daryl. He's at a disadvantage. I ain't a moron. I know that. Just... He's a grown fuckin' man and I can't baby 'im. Can't make 'im do what he don't want ta do."

I nodded. "I'm sure he got by fine in the old world. But now, he can't scream for help. He can't rationalize with other survivors who are gonna be scared and desperate. A group sees him coming and yells to him? He don't answer, they might mistake 'im for a walker."

"Thanks for making me feel better, asshole," Merle said flatly, eyes still on the road ahead of us. 

"Gonna make you a promise, Merle. You guys are helping me find my son. I got your brother's back. Yours too. 'F somethin' happens to you... Daryl's gonna be kin to me. I won't leave his side. I swear it to you."

Merle looked me in the eyes and nodded. "You ain't so bad, Friendly."

"You either," I answered. "You ain't half the prick you're always tryin' ta be." 

"Fuck you, Friendly," he said with about as close to a smile as his face was able. He stood and stretched.

"Fuck you too, Merle," I said affectionately. And he climbed down the ladder, letting me have the last word.

I sat on the RV roof and wondered how many people were left in the world. How many in Georgia. I'd been in this world two days now and only found two other survivors. I couldn't lose my hope and I reminded myself of all the different things I knew for fact that would help me keep it. 

Lori and I may have been on the cusp of a divorce, but she was a good mother. She'd do anything for Carl. He would have been her priority, no question. Shane. Shane probably sat by my hospital bed every night just as I would have if he'd been shot. He could've taken Lori and Carl for me. Protected them. We had good neighbors. Good relationships with them. Maybe they all left together as a team. Carl. He was bright. He was a good kid that respected his elders, would listen for the most part. 

With the sound of crickets and night just barely leaving the air, I heard the RV door open and saw Daryl walk to the front of the vehicle. The sun was barely starting to lighten the sky. He looked up at me and pointed to his bow and then the woods. 

"Merle isn't going with you?" I asked.

He brushed his hand through the air in a "don't need him" sort of way and started into the woods.

"Daryl, be careful, ok?," I called quietly after him. I didn't like it at all, but what was I gonna do? Tackle him? I felt a sudden sympathy for Merle. For how often he didn't like Daryl to do things, but like the older Dixon said, Daryl was a grown ass man. He was going to do what he was going to do. 

Breakfast alone with Merle was exactly what I would've expected breakfast alone with Merle to be. A lot of complaining, excessive cussing, occasional spittle flying from his mouth when the conversation hit a nerve with him. As we ate granola bars we found in the RV, I heard about Merle's hatred of hippies, his aversion to green vegetables, the need for a woman in our group to cook and do laundry, how it would be nice if said woman had big tits, how long he once wore the same pair of boxers without washing them and how badly we needed to find coffee.

My contribution to the conversation was that I was glad the granola bars didn't have raisins.

The sound of movement through brush caught our attention. Luckily we heard it just as Merle had taken a breath after explaining that "chinks not being able to drive" wasn't racist, it was fact.

We both got up and armed ourselves as we watched Daryl part through the woods with a couple squirrels hanging around his neck and pulling a small deer. 

"Hot damn, little brother! You ain't lost it! Shit ya only been gone 'bout 2 hours!"

Christ, I thought, that was just two hours? Felt like ten. I had actually considered chewing off my own arm when Merle went into a philosophical discussion about how important it is to jack off every day and how many times in one day was his record. It was 8, by the way. And the fact that I now knew this made me feel like my brain needed a hot shower.

Daryl was not as thrilled to see Merle based on the flying hands and the body language. From what I could gather based on Merle's responses and assumptions I started making from some of the signs, Daryl had expected Merle to have a fire ready and going. I started gathering some dry wood as they argued. And eventually they just stopped communicating and fell into work together, Daryl skinning and preparing the squirrel near my pile of twigs and wood and Merle working on the deer where Daryl left it still partially in the woods.

As I built the fire (Thank God for Boy Scouts), I said quietly to Daryl, "Sorry, man, it didn't even dawn on me to get a fire ready." He shook his head and flicked his eyes at Merle which I took to mean that he didn't expect me to know but Merle should have. 

In no time we had two speared squirrels cooked and ready to eat. We ate quietly together, Daryl putting some aside for Merle. "Never had squirrel before," I said. Daryl lifted a brow and his chin at the hunk of meat I was gnawing on. I assumed he was asking what I thought. "It's hot food," I answered noncommittally. "Better than saltines." 

Merle came up behind me and reached for the chunk of squirrel Daryl had set aside for him. "Any walkers out there?" he asked, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. Daryl nodded as he chewed and held up three fingers. 

"All together or stragglers?"

Daryl answered with greasy fingers. I looked to Merle and with an expectant stare. "Stragglers," he grumbled in translation.

"I'll finish 'er up," he offered, nodding his head towards the deer. "Can make some jerky with it that'll keep." He turned to me, "Friendly, Daryl and I's talkin' last night 'bout needin' supplies. You two want to bike out, check a few a' these out-of-the-way homes? Search 'em for weapons, water and food? 

"I gotta get to Fort Benning," I said, my heart sinking at the thought of abandoning hope already. 

"Calm down, officer. We ain't forgot yer kid. Daryl found some twisty side roads on the map we think might be easier. We either nab us a vehicle or take the RV so we can keep supplies on us." 

I looked at Daryl and he nodded to me that it would be ok. He had a confident nod and a sincerity to his eyes that communicated clearer to me than if he would have used words.

"Alright," I said. "I'm ready when you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Daryl and Rick coming up in the next chapter! Stay tuned!
> 
> Hope you have a moment to leave me a comment so I feel all warm and fuzzy! ;-) I love hearing hearing from all of you!


	6. Becoming Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known- Skarlatha makes everything better. Continued thanks for her beta'ing and her overall awesomeness!

Daryl and I got about 30 minutes down the road before we came to our first house. I had my Colt holstered and carried one of my two rifles. I’d left the other with Merle. Daryl had his crossbow up and aimed before he even had both feet on the ground after dismounting from the bike. He had his long knife sheathed in his belt.

We walked slowly to the front doors of the old country home and with eyes and nods agreed that Daryl would enter first, and me behind him. We systematically cleared the house wordlessly, almost using telepathy to communicate. There were three walkers, all barricaded in an upstairs bedroom. Daryl stood back as I flung open the door and he put a bolt in the closest. I fired into into the second and before the body dropped, Daryl had reloaded and hit the third with amazing speed.

Once we were both comfortable that we were alone, we went back into the kitchen with focus on the cupboards and cabinets. We got lucky. Lots of soups. Case of some kind of flavored water. More peanut butter. Can of mixed nuts. We took everything edible or drinkable and put it on the kitchen table.

“I’m gonna check closets for some backpacks or bags or something to put all this in.” I looked to him and he pointed optimistically out the kitchen window. There was old red Chevy truck parked out back. I smiled and nodded. “Perfect. I’ll look around for keys too.”

We just looked at each other for a moment and I had a lump in my stomach over the fact that I couldn’t easily communicate with this man. Because I seemed to always want to know what he was thinking.

“You guys are really good at this. Survivin’,” I said. He gave me a sad smile and that slightest of nods. I wanted to talk to him. About everything and nothing.

I put my hand in a fist and circled it over my heart like I’ve seen him and Merle both do at various points. “What’s this one mean?” I asked. And I took a shopping list off the refrigerator that had a pen affixed to it to hand to him. He sat at the table and pushed aside some soups and wrote--

SORRY

I nodded. “How do you say ‘I need help?’” I was trying to think of things that would be necessary, not things I was really curious about, like why there was always a sadness in his eyes that I could tell dated back before the end of the world.

He made movements with his hands and I copied them. “Like this?”

He nodded and smiled.

“How do you say thank you?”

He put a hand to his chin and then moved it in my direction. I nodded.

“Yeah, I remember you doing that one before! How do you say ‘you’re welcome?’“

He showed me and I mimicked him.

“That will help a little,” I said. And made the sign for ‘thank you’, a stupid grin on my face. He returned with ‘you’re welcome’ then scribbled and handed me a note:

NOW WE CAN BE POLITE DURING THE APOCALYPSE. SO THAT’S NICE.

I laughed. “I also know this one,” I said with an extended middle finger. He smiled wide and scribbled--

GOOD JOB

“How do you do that one?” I asked pointing to the words. He showed me and I copied.

Then he scribbled--

I SHOULD ALSO SHOW YOU ‘YOU ARE DOING A TERRIBLE JOB.’ NEEDED THAT ONE FOR YOUR FIRE THIS MORNING.

I rolled my eyes. “OK, show me.” He motioned and I mimicked.

“So what was wrong with my fire?”

We continued our conversation, part talking, part writing and part signing until we heard a knock at the back door off the kitchen.

We froze. “Is there typically knocking in the apocalypse?” I whispered. He stood silently, stone-faced and focused with his crossbow aimed at the door. I held my gun and peered through a window. A single woman, black with long dreads, stood back from the door with her hands raised to look non-threatening.

“Been listening. Watching,” she said when she saw me through the window. “I’ve run into some bad people, but you guys... You don’t sound bad. I can’t keep on alone. I’m good with a sword. I can help. I just... I just need people.”

I could tell from her voice and her body language that it was hard for her to admit needing people. And I could tell by the vacant look in her eyes that she’d already seen some pretty bad shit. Maybe even worse than walkers. I looked to Daryl for his feedback and he made the new “good” sign I learned. I nodded and he nodded back.

I opened the door, Daryl coming to my side protectively like a mother lion to her cub. We stared at her for a few moments until I remembered to speak. “I’m Rick Grimes,” I said, “You sure you’re alone?” I looked around the outskirts of the property. Suspicion was a thing that was ingrained in me during my time on the force.

She nodded. “Michonne. Been alone for weeks now,” she said, voice thick with emotion but strong enough not to cry.

Daryl motioned for her to put her hands down and she did. “Yeah, shit. Sorry,” I said and my fist went up already a reflex to rub over my heart with the word sorry. “Come on in.” I held the door for her. She was filthy. Dirtier than us. Lots of blood stains.

Daryl opened a water and handed it to her and she guzzled it. “Thank you,” she said after draining half the bottle. She looked over at Daryl. “He deaf?” she asked. I remembered Merle’s annoyed response to me when I asked... And I kind of understood it now.

“No. He can hear ya. Just can’t speak. Daryl Dixon. We’re with his brother too, he’s back at.... I guess our camp?” I said, questioning my verbiage with a look to the archer. He bobbed his head up and down, more or less in agreement that it was the right word.

She nodded. “Just three of you then?” I nodded. Daryl made signs that neither of us could understand, then went back around to the table and wrote.

EAT, MICHONE. MUST BE HUNGRY.

She read it and smiled. “Thanks, Daryl Dixon,” and with probably the first smile she’d worn in months, pointed to the note, “Two ‘N’s in Michonne, if it matters.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and scribbled--

SORRY MICHONNNNNE.

She picked up the can of mixed nuts and nodded at my uniform. “So, a cop and a sarcastic mute? Sounds like the start of a bad ‘walked into a bar’ joke.”

“Wait til you meet our third,” I said, and Daryl and I shared a smile.

As she started popping handfuls of nuts and Daryl motioned for her to sit, he turned to me. He signed something that must be a simple word.

“I don’t know that one,” I said. He pointed to what I originally thought was my dick, but turned out to be my pocket as he practically reached in it to get the photo of Carl.

“Jesus, yeah,” I said when I finally put two and two together. Michonne just watched us like we were television.

With the yearbook page in my hand, I grew nervous. What if she had seen him... And he... was gone?

I looked into Daryl’s eyes and he slowly reached for the page. He gave me a sincere nod of the head, keeping comforting eye contact with me, and I knew he understood my hesitation. I let my hand loosen as he slipped the page from my fingers. “Scared,” I mouthed to him with barely a whisper. He put his other hand soft on my shoulder.

“What is it?” Michonne asked. I decided that pretty much everyone was going to start talking with their mouths full in the apocalypse.

“My son. You were with a group before?”

She nodded. Sobered. Sat up in her chair. “Yes. Was with a group originally. Big group. 20-25. I’m the last. Rotters took some. A few took each other when fights broke out. Fucking idiots. Then, y’know, the bad guys.”

“Any kids with you?” I asked shakily.

She nodded and looked back towards Daryl, eyeing the paper. He opened and handed it to her.

“His name is Carl,” I said quietly. “Might be with his mom, Lori.”

She looked quickly and smiled. “No. I haven’t seen him. So you still got hope.”

Daryl scribbled and flipped his page to both me and Michonne.

WE THINK FT. BENNING. YOU BEEN THERE?

“No. Haven’t been that way, but there was talk of evacuating people there in the last days of TV.”

Daryl wrote.

WE ARE LOOKING FOR HIM. IF YOU JOIN US, THAT IS PRIORITY.

Daryl was completely and utterly dedicated to finding my son and I almost wanted to cry with the passionate appreciation that filled me.

She nodded. “I’m in,” she said softly. She looked me square in the eye. “Mine’s gone. My boy. Three years old. Rotters got him.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” I said, my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off tears for her. She nodded.

“S’ok,” she said softly. “Ones that are gone might be the lucky ones anyway, right?”

Daryl put a gentle hand on her shoulder for lack of being able to console her with words.

She gave him a small half-smile. “I like you, Daryl Dixon.”

He wrote.

LIKE YOU TOO, MICHONNNNE.

She smiled and looked at me. “Like you, too, Rick Grimes.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” I said.

Daryl jotted a note and shoved it towards me, just for my eyes.

SHOULD WE WARN HER THAT MERLE IS AN ASSHOLE?

I laughed and she shot up a brow in question. I slid the note to her. “You’ve been warned. Just remember how much you like the two of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new addition to Team "Find Carl"! But still no sign of Carl. Stay tuned!


	7. Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to beta reader, Skarlatha and to all of you who are reading and enjoying! Interacting with you all makes writing Rickyl so much fun!

The keys to the truck were easy to find. So were a half-dozen hunting rifles and a good stash of bullets. I found some knives with sheaths like Daryl had and gave one to Michonne, kept one for myself and packed a third for Merle. I also found a red hatchet that I decided would be part of my belt arsenal moving forward. 

We got all the food and weapons and some blankets packed up on the truck. When we got ready to leave, it made obvious sense for Daryl to ride the bike alone and Michonne and I to take the truck. I was strangely disappointed at not being able to ride back with Daryl. I couldn't explain why. 

I drove the truck, Michonne rode shotgun and Daryl took off ahead of us. 

Michonne nodded ahead at him, "He seems like a good guy." 

"Yeah," I said. "He's... Genuine. Sincere. Honest. Only known him a few days and feel like I trust him with my life."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "You didn't know each other before ... Ya know, The End?"

I laughed, "Nope."

"Gotta be honest," she said, "Kinda thought you were like married or something."

I gave her my best "what the fuck?" look while my head filled with goofy teenage girl questions, like "OMG, really?" Or "Why? Do you think he likes me?" I laughed at my own thoughts, but luckily she thought the laugh was at her assumption. 

We drove in silence a bit, then I asked her a question that had been sitting in line, antsy for its turn at the base of my brain. 

"The bad people? What's that mean exactly?"

I heard her sigh heavy beside me as I kept my eyes on the road in front of me. On Daryl. Kinda thinkin' 'bout when I rode with him. The calming feel of his hips against the flat of my hands. Security. Comfort. Peace. 

"Basically just people who wanna take everything you have. I mean… EVERYTHING. Leave ya for dead," Michonne answered, carefully choosing each word. 

I nodded. "You're with friends now," I told her.

"So how bad is this brother?" she asked and before I could answer, Daryl took a curve going a safe 20-25 miles-per-hour and skidded the bike to the ground as he swerved to miss half a dozen walkers crossing the road.

I slammed on the brakes and Michonne and I jumped out with zero hesitation. I ran to Daryl and lifted the bike off his leg. Michonne was behind me slicing heads off walkers easy as a pound of ham at the deli counter. With one walker left closing in on Daryl and me, I grabbed for my new knife and sunk it into a skull. The flurry of nerves and fear abated as the three of us 360'd our surroundings, hearing and seeing no further threat. 

I propped Daryl up with my arm around him, assuming the worst for the leg caught under the bike, and walked him over to the truck. Michonne stood in the road, peering into the woods to make sure there weren't more. 

"You ok?" I asked Daryl, my voice more frightened and frantic than I would have liked. He nodded and stood, looking at his leg. The jeans he wore were ripped, bloody, but not dripping. He stood and walked a few steps and gave me a thumbs up. 

Michonne came around to us. "Small group. Think that was all. You ok?" she asked Daryl. He nodded and made the sign for 'thank you.'

"That means 'thank you,'" I told her, sounding prouder than I should have for a grown man.

She nodded at Daryl.

"Let's just all stick to the truck," I suggested. Daryl frowned and walked back to his bike with a slight limp. He lifted it and examined some of the underside that had skidded along the road. Even I could see instantly that it was out of commission. The front tire was literally crooked. He sighed heavily and pushed it over, kicked at it in disappointment then came back to the truck. I could tell by his sorrow that this wasn’t a bike they stumbled upon. This bike had always been his and leaving it was like leaving my house a few days ago. I let my hand briefly pat at his shoulder when he passed me and he reluctantly followed Michonne around to the passenger side of the truck.

Daryl ended up in the middle. Not sure if it was because he went out if his way to climb in first or if Michonne wanted him in between since he'd injured his leg, or if she just really thought he and I were that close. Whatever the reason, I was glad. I felt his thigh against mine and it was a constant comfort that he was here and OK. That I was OK. That we were still on a mission together to find my son.

I was a father and a husband and a cop and it was always my job to do the protecting. But with Daryl, I felt like, for the first time, someone was kinda looking out for me too. And to be honest...I kind of liked it. 

Daryl started signing and squirming and clearly had something he wanted to communicate. 

"You bring the paper and pen?" I asked him. I heard his soft, dejected sigh as I kept my eyes on the road. "Christ, my twelve-year-old son listens better than you, Daryl," I said.

I caught him flipping me the bird out of the corner of my eye. "Sorry, I forget what that one means," I said sarcastically. 

"Seriously, guys. You sound like an old married couple," Michonne chimed in.

We simultaneously flipped her the bird. That probably didn't help our attempted denial. 

\--------------

As we pulled up to the RV in the late afternoon, Merle was finished doing whatever it is people do with a deer carcass to prepare it to become jerky. He was on top of the RV with my rifle aimed at us until he recognized Daryl and me and then he moved to climb down to us.

We got out of the truck and Daryl poked me and I totally knew why. "Reminder, Michonne. He's an asshole, but, like, a well-meaning one." She nodded, keeping her eyes on him. 

"What the fuck is this?" Merle asked as he walked around from the back ladder. "I send you for water and weapons and you come back with no bike and a nig--"

"Merle!" I shouted at the same time Daryl launched forward and pushed into his chest.

"Team meeting," I said to Michonne. "Pardon us a moment," and Daryl and I dragged an obstinate Merle to the back of the RV. 

Daryl started signing like mad as I pushed the larger man against the RV with my forearm. 

"Merle," I said firmly. "That 'nigger' just saved your brother's life. Risked her own for his. You said when I met you there was no such thing as days, Monday, Sunday. Well, there ain't no black and white either. Only people. Good ones and bad ones. She's a good one. And I'd like to think you are too--"

I wasn't even done, but Merle was already backing down. "Fuck. Fine, Friendly. Whatever." He shook me off and turned back to walk towards Michonne. "Least she got nice tits," he muttered. 

Daryl and I met eyes and rolled them.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Merle said as he walked back to Michonne, his voice completely insincere. "Merle Dixon," he said. "Apologies. I was expecting water. Not watermelons," he said as he stared at her cleavage without the courtesy of pretending not to.

Daryl started with the aggressive signing and Merle argued back in snippets of word and signs. I looked at Michonne apologetically. "This happens a lot," I said. 

We stood, me with folded arms and her leaning on the side of the RV.

"I'm kinda partial to the quiet one," she said.

"Me too."

\--------------

The RV wouldn't start, so the next morning when we had our new plan to set out towards Fort Benning, Merle rode ahead on his bike and the three of us followed in the truck. 

I could tell the older Dixon actually listened to our warnings about Daryl's accident because he slowed to nearly a stop as he took some of the sharper turns. When we ran smack dab into twilight, we rolled up to another secluded home. The four of us cleared it and made a damn good team considering what a motley crew of strangers we were only days ago. 

We got lucky and didn't find a single walker. But it appeared that the occupants had gotten out and taken all their food and weapons with them. Daryl and Merle decided to do a quick trip close by to try for a squirrel dinner.

I gathered firewood, eager to try the tips Daryl'd given me to build a proper fire. After I had it going fairly strong, Michonne and I sat on lawn chairs we'd found. 

Before I could even lean back and start a conversation with our newest member of the group, we both bolted upright at the sound of gunshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Cliffhanger! What can it be? Walkers? Bad Guys? Carl? Someone new? Stay tuned!!


	8. In the Trees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the great Skarlatha!

The first shot had us both on our feet. The second and third had us running to the treeline, wordless and without hesitation. There was still enough light in the sky to see fairly well, and I looked to Michonne. She nodded her head in the direction she thought the shots originated from. I nodded in agreement and she followed close behind as I started moving.

My heart was racing. We walked as quiet as possible and paused every fifty feet or so to listen. After a few minutes I heard a voice. Merle’s. The tone was way softer than usual and an image of Daryl dying in his brother’s arms popped into my brain and took my breath away. Michonne came up beside me.

“It’s Merle,” she whispered. I nodded and we moved slow to get our eyes on the situation. Please, God. Don’t take any of these people from me right now. I need them, I thought.

We finally stepped into a clearing and Merle looked towards us with a raised gun.

“Fuck. Y’all almost got a bullet. The fuck you doin’ sneakin’ up on us like that?” His voice was back to its normal gruffness when he turned it to us. I took in the scene before responding. About half a dozen walkers lay on the ground around him, most at the base of the tree he was looking into. Daryl had feet and hands on low branches, reaching up into the leaves and I watched as a small, skinny, pale arm reached down for him and a young girl shimmied herself down from upper branches into Daryl’s open arm.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

“Tree’d her like a fuckin’ cat,” Merle said after my eyes swung back to his.

Daryl carefully climbed back out of the tree with a terrified kid attached to him, thin arms wrapped tight around him and her head buried in his neck. He patted her back as he joined us and shot eyes back in the direction of our accommodations for the night.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s all get back to the house.” Merle pulled out several of Daryl’s bolts from the corpses surrounding us and we all made our way back. The fire I’d made gave us a light to focus towards and we came out of the woods moving to it.

“Didn’t get nothin’. I’ll put the fire out,” Merle murmured.

Daryl and I went into the living room with the kid and I asked Michonne to grab some water and something to offer the girl to eat. As Daryl sat, he tried to put the girl down to sit on her own, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet and practically strangled him when she latched on harder.

“Hey, there,” I said using the same child-friendly tone that Merle had been attempting in the woods. “My name is Rick and I’m a policeman. This is Daryl. Can you tell us your name?”

She peaked out at me, as she stayed pressed firmly against Daryl. “Sophia,” she said in a small, timid voice.

“Sophia,” I smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you. You are a smart, brave kid climbing the tree like that. Good for you, sweetheart,” I praised. “Are you with a group? How did you end up alone?”

Michonne came in with packaged cheese crackers and a bottle of water.

“Sophia, this is Michonne,” I said.

“Hi, Sophia,” Michonne handed her the water and crackers. “When was the last time you ate, sweetie?”

The girl didn’t answer, but the offer of the food and water finally made her peel herself off Daryl and reach for it. She stayed on his lap though, as she ate and drank quickly.

Merle came back in and plopped down in a chair. “Fire’s out,” he grunted.

We all kind of just watched this miracle child eat and drink until everything Michonne had brought her was gone.

“How long you been out there by yourself?” I prodded again.

She looked around at each of us, Daryl last. “Why don’t he talk?”

“He can’t. He’s mute. But he can hear us,” I answered.

She slowly nodded after thinking about it. She looked back at me. “I got lost when some walkers came into our camp. Can’t find my mom now.”

“How many people were you with?” I asked, trying not to get too selfish too quickly with my line of questioning.

I could see her counting in her head. “Maybe ten?” she answered. “My mom. My dad for a while but he died. And other people we didn’t know before. One was like you,” she said.

I looked at Daryl and we exchanged a confused look.

“Like me? You mean a policeman?”

She nodded. “Mr. Shane.”

I froze. I felt like my lungs had stopped taking in air and my blood had stopped pumping. Shane. Was this MY Shane? My partner? I still firmly believed there was a chance he would have tried to protect my family for me. I opened my mouth to ask, but was terrified of the answer.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Just ask her!” Merle growled from the corner. “Was there a kid with ya? Little older than you? Boy. Named Carl?”

Sophia looked at Merle, surprised. “Yeah, with his mom.” she cocked her head in confusion. “How’d you know?”

Daryl moved Sophia off his lap and motioned for my pocket again and I grabbed for the picture before he could reach in himself. I handed it to the girl and she looked. “Yeah. Are you his dad? I thought his dad died. Mr. Shane said he did.”

I burst into sobs, completely unashamed. My son. He was alive. Daryl stood by me and put a hand on my shoulder. “How long ago?” I said through my tears. “How long ago did you get lost from your group?”

“Four nights,” she said and she started sniffling a bit as well. “Can we find them? My mom and your son?”

“You stumbled into the right folks, kid,” Merle grumbled. “Gettin’ you back to your mom just became priority number one.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, but I truly believed Merle was happy for me.

Daryl got the map and brochures back out and we all discussed possibilities at length. My knee bounced excitedly the entire time, making the floorboards beneath me creak. Daryl kept putting a hand on my knee and signing “calm.” He had to write it the first time and then I mimicked it back.

We had some ideas. Sophia said they were staying in cabins and there were four different campgrounds nearby. We planned to start in the morning and move quickly to each one. The truck was low on gas and with another body now, we decided that Merle and I would make a run in the morning to try to find another vehicle to swap out, and to take a last chance to stock up on food and water. Maybe look for a first aid kit since we didn’t have anything like that yet. The campgrounds were far up into the mountains and we weren’t sure how many houses we’d be able to loot for supplies up that way.

It had become an unspoken agreement that we would all sleep close. Merle claimed the recliner, Michonne had the couch and Sophia was already asleep on the loveseat. I laid down on the floor with a few blankets and a pillow. Daryl was on first shift watch, then Michonne would take over.

I heard Michonne’s breathing shift into sleep. I could see Merle’s eyes were still open and he was staring at nothing, deep in thought. He glanced over to me.

“Don’t know how Daryl convinced that little girl to come down outta that tree. I had ta do the talkin’, and well... you know I ain’t the comfortin’ kind,” Merle said out of nowhere, laughing softly to himself.

“With his eyes,” I answered immediately. “He has a way a talkin’ peaceful with his eyes. So you’re comforted. Makes ya know you’re all he’s focused on. She probably felt that. Kids pick up on things about people.”

Merle grunted a “Hmm.”

“What were you sayin’ to her?” I asked, just to make conversation.

“Told her we had candy. The fuck do I know about talkin’ ta kids?” Said she wasn’t s’posed to take candy from strangers. So I told her our names and we ain’t strangers no more.”

“I’m impressed, Merle. Really.”

 

“Then told her we just saved her ass from corpses that wanted to eat ‘er for dinner and least she could do was be a little more ‘preciative. That’s when Daryl decided he better climb up there.”

“Well, yeah, that sounds more like you.”

“No sleepin’ in tomorrow, Friendly. Let’s get movin’ soon ‘s it’s dawn,” Merle grumbled.

“Absolutely,” I answered.

A few minutes later I heard soft snores from the recliner. I couldn’t sleep. I was excited. Worried. Anxious for the sun to come up so we could move. I wasn’t ready for sleep so I walked out to the porch and Daryl smiled and nodded. I pulled up a lawn chair next to him and we sat silently for a bit.

“How do you say son?” I asked. He made a motion from forehead to elbow and I mimicked it.  
“I can’t believe it, right? A lead. Like with the whole world gone completely to shit and we might find him.” I shook my head, still shocked.

We sat just watching the breeze in the trees and listening to the music of crickets. I was growing tired, but liked being where I was. Sitting next to Daryl. Feeling the fresh air of a late summer night in my lungs. Having a sense of optimism of finding Carl. Thinking about what the next day might bring.

I signed all the words I’d learned so far--which were only a dozen--and said the word as I did it. Daryl watched and nodded each time and then signed “Good Job.” I signed “Thank-you.” I stayed up with him another hour just saying words and studying his fingers as he made them. There’s something about Daryl’s hands. They’re manly, but eloquent when they dance in the air. Fingers that are calloused from hard work but delicate when they carefully bend and straighten to create finger pictures of words. Shortly after I learned the word sleep, Daryl signed to me- “you. sleep.” I nodded. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow.” I smiled as I silently signed “Find my son,” without the words to accompany it and Daryl nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments and love. Our boys are getting closer and closer to understanding that there's something between them!


	9. Signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the amazing Skarlatha!

Merle and I were on the road early, leaving Michonne still on watch and Daryl and Sophia still asleep in the living room. We took the truck in case we found supplies but had no luck with a better vehicle. 

Merle drove and I tried not to bounce my foot in anticipation of getting this trip done and heading back to the group so we could move out.

"Don't seem as excited 'bout your ol' lady." Merle said after a good twenty minutes of complete silence. And not the comfortable kind that Daryl and I share, but the kind where I'm bracing myself for what he's gonna say when the silence breaks, trying to decide how offensive or ignorant it's going to be.

"I'm glad she's alive. What kind of person do you think I am?" I asked.

"Ain't judging. Just noticing."

I sighed. "We were divorcing. Before I got shot. Before all this," I said, motioning to the landscape.

"Hmm," Merle grumbled.

That was the extent of the conversation. And for that, I was thankful.

We pulled into a small shopping plaza. A CVS, a pet store, a bookstore and a bank. The parking lot had several SUV's that looked like good options for us. 

I stood guard as Merle hot-wired each one, checking the gas in each. We would commandeer the one with the fullest tank. 

After clearing the CVS we found that we weren't the first people in the place looting. The shelves were half empty and bags and cans lay on the floor in disarray.

"Not a real populated area. Could have even been Sophia's group in here that took so much. Carl coulda been here," I said. 

"I don't know, Friendly. Some almond milk over here they didn't take. Bet your kid's been moanin' to his mamma for months now bout how much he misses warm milk from somethin' ain't got tits and, like, caviar or whatever tha fuck else y'all ate."

Ahhh... There's the Merle I'm used to. 

"I'm lactose intolerant, Merle. The almond milk was mine." I wasn't sure after I said it if that was gonna make me seem better or worse in his eyes. His hoarse laugh alerted me quickly that it would be worse.

"Bet you ate tofu too, didn't ya? I mention how much I hate hippies?"

"You've mentioned how much you hate everyone," I said as I carried a garbage bag over to the pharmacy area and started taking all the Tylenol, band-Aids, gauze and Neosporin that was left. The actual pharmacy had already been broken into. I looked at labels but didn't have much experience to know what might be helpful.

"What ya lookin' for?" Merle asked, appearing behind me. 

"Don't really know what any of this shit is," I said, several bottles of pills in my hands. "Just think it would be good to have like just some kind of antibiotics, pain killers too maybe in case we have bigger injuries than cuts and scrapes." The larger man pushed past me. 

"Usually keep that stuff on the easier shelves to reach." He read a few bottles. Put a few back on the shelf, threw a few at me. Stuffed one in his own pocket. 

I looked at him with my head tilted, studying him like I was trying to figure him out.

"I know a few things, officer." 

After we loaded the SUV, Merle went about siphoning the other vehicles and filling every gas canister we'd acquired. As we leaned against an old Honda Civic filling the last container, I said, "Hey, help me clear that bookstore real quick."

"What the fuck for?" he grunted.

"Cause," I fumbled, trying to make something up other than what I really wanted. "None of us has medical backgrounds. Want to get a book on first aid." 

He frowned and grumbled. "I'll help ya clear it but if that place don't have a Playboy to make it worth my while I'm gonna make it so you need to use that first aid book sooner than ya'd like."

"Deal," I said as Merle stopped the siphon and capped the third gas can.

We moved to the bookstore and took out two walkers inside. 

"Man, I thought you were pathetic runnin' around in a hospital gown. These pussies were in a fucking bookstore during the apocalypse." Merle laughed. No one thought Merle was funnier than Merle. I sighed and rolled my eyes. I would never live down my lack of pants from our first meeting. 

We both found what we wanted and quickly left the store, me with a first aid book and a sign language book and Merle with a stack of nudie magazines.

"You wanna drive, Friendly?"

"So you can jack off to those things in the passenger seat? Fuck no!" I answered, climbing in to the passenger seat myself to the sound of his hard, rough laugh.

I had the sign language book open on my lap before we even pulled out of the parking lot and the car braked hard as Merle looked at me.

"Fuck ya get that for?" he asked.

"So I can talk to him," I said acting like it was the stupidest question I'd ever heard. And really, it kinda was. As Carl would say, Duh. 

Merle got solemn and serious, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight. "Rick. Don't fuck with him, man." 

I think that may have been the first time he used my actual name, and that did draw my attention. 

"My baby brother, he's always been sensitive. Grew up with some bad shit, man." 

I interrupted. "Ain't gonna fuck with him. Don't know what the hell you're talking about." 

"Yes. You do. I see the way he looks at you." Merle's glance left my eyes and he turned his focus to the road ahead even though we weren't moving. "Know for a fact the fucking kid ain't never had a woman. Wasn't sure 'f he just wasn't inta any a that or was like a queer or what the fuck. Maybe it's just you. I don't know." He paused for just a moment. "Those eyes you talked about. With Sophia? He don't look at everyone like that, Friendly. Just you. And I ain't kicked your ass yet cause you look back at him the same damn way. And ya probly can guess I hate fags but I love my brother no matter what. And if I ain't reading you right....and you ain't returnin' his eyes tha way I think you are?... You just better not fuck with him is all. Hurt 'im or nothin'. I'd kinda hate ta kill ya at this point. Kinda use to ya."

I honestly did not know what to make of these surprising words coming from Merle. But I immediately responded, "I will never hurt Daryl. Ever. He and Carl are the only reasons I'm drawing breath every day." As we fell back into silence and Merle started driving again, I thought about what a weird thing that was for me to say. The only things most important in my whole world were my only son and some redneck I met less than a week ago? But it was true. I already had incredibly strong, complicated feelings for the younger Dixon that I couldn't explain to myself, much less to Merle. And his insinuations didn't make anything clearer to me. I wasn't gay. I was married. I just liked the guy. He was a good guy. Wanted to protect him and liked that he wanted to protect me. That's normal. Normal for this new world to want people you trust. 

I pushed the confused thoughts aside and concentrated on my book. I practiced the alphabet, learned a few words I wanted to show off with and then closed it and turned to Merle.

After this ride, he might not let his guard down to talk so openly about shit again, so I decided to ask more questions while I could. 

"He born like that? Without vocal cords or somethin?"

Merle glanced over at me, clearly deciding if I was worthy of such personal information. He glanced back down at my book and let out a heavy sigh.

"Believe me. Kid has lungs and can use 'em. Cried like a bitch first whole year he was alive. Didn't have great folks. Cryin's 'bout the worst thing ya can do. Get ya beat senseless."

"Jesus," I muttered, not expecting the answer.

"Doctor's can't figure him out. Shrinks think our Pa prolly beat the voice outta him. 'Fraid ta make noise after a while 'er somethin'. And like now... His brain's past it's prime time on how ta learn ta form words and shit, so there ain’t nuthin’ can be done to fix it. Took him to doctors myself ta find all that out. Our folks weren't too concerned. I Learned signin' with him when a teacher at school took interest and taught him."

I stared at him and saw a softer man behind his rough skin and bristly demeanor. "You're a way better person than you let on, Merle."

"Yeah, well, that's classified. Keep yer trap shut about it."

When we got back to the others I kept my new book hidden. Wanted to learn more first as a surprise. 

\--------------

We took off for the first of the four campsites that we had high hopes for. The roads were relatively clear but they were bumpy mountain roads and we had to keep slow. I was at the wheel with Daryl in the passenger seat. Michonne, Merle and Sophia squeezed in the middle seat with the back seat and trunk filled with food, water, medical supplies and cans of gas.

I listened to Sophia trying to engage Merle in a game of "I Spy."

"I spy something black," he said. 

"You're a fucking racist asshole, Dixon, she's a kid," Michonne snapped.

"Don't talk like a sailor front a tha kid, then, 'f yer so high and mighty. 'Sides, I was talkin' bout my boots, not you."

The kid's little blonde head popped up between Daryl and I. "Can I sit up here with you guys?" I chuckled and Daryl motioned for her to sit with him. Instead of "I Spy" she played "what's the sign for this," with Daryl while Merle tried to convince Michonne that she was racist against rednecks.

As we drove through the first campground, it was clear that no one had been staying in it. My heart sank and I realized how much I'd been counting on finding Carl before the day was over. Daryl could tell and he put a comforting hand on my shoulder. There were about 14 cabins sprinkled through the wooded area. We cleared each cabin and found nothing more than cobwebs. Daryl shot a raccoon in one of them and we decided the sun was getting too low to make it to the next possibility before losing the light. 

I started gathering twigs and wood for the fire and Merle helped. Daryl skinned the raccoon while Michonne and Sophia watched, making sarcastic gagging noises at how gross it was.

After I had the fire going, I sat in the cabin alone flipping through my sign language book. I listened to Merle grumble about how squirrel was much better than raccoon and then heard his side of an argument with Daryl over who's a better shot and how many walkers they killed. 

When the food was ready we ate together and one by one turned in for the night, with me heading to bed first. I spent another hour in my book, then snoozed on and off until my watch showed that I had an hour before it was my turn to stand guard. Soft snores from Merle and Michonne filled the cabin. 

I went out front early and stood over Daryl. He looked up and nodded, checked his watch and looked at me, confused. "I'm early. I know. Couldn't sleep. Plus I had something I wanted to say." Daryl kept his eyes wide on me, waiting. I smiled and very carefully signed "Thank you for dinner. You hunt good." I didn't say the words with it. 

His head tilted and his smile spread slow across his face. He furrowed his brows to ask me how I learned it. I signed "Found book" and then finger-spelled the alphabet. He laughed. 

"I know," I said, "a grown man proud of himself for knowin' the alphabet. Stupid." I shook my head, smiling and sat down, facing him. He signed something and I knew part of it. "You have nice... I don't know the last sign," I said with a pout. He made the universal sign for writing on paper. "Yeah, aren't you supposed to be carrying it?" I scolded him as I took a pen and notepad out of my pocket and tossed it to him.

He wrote, hesitated sharing it for a moment, and then dropped the notepad on the ground between us, facing me.

SMILE

I looked at him and grinned, blushing at how glad I was that he liked my smile. I got up and gave him the "just a moment" sign and slipped back into the cabin, coming back out with my book and flashlight. I sat back down and flipped through it. I signed back, "You have nice blue eyes."

Daryl blushed and scribbled another note. 

ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH ME?

I laughed. "Honestly, I have no fucking idea." He just kept his gaze on me, tryin' to read more in my eyes, tryin' to see all the way inside me like knowin' what was inside me was the most important thing in his whole world. I wondered what he saw. Hell, I didn't even understand what was inside me.

Our eyes stayed locked. And that was not unusual, but the hairs on my neck started standing and I was getting goosebumps despite the warm summer night and that had not happened before. My eyes dipped down to his lips when he swallowed, then licked and bit nervously at the bottom one. His expression was so open and interested and I could read in him that he felt these weird things too. If this was a woman, this was the moment that I'd lean in and kiss her. It wasn't a woman. It was Daryl. But I still felt it. Felt the need, the desire, the urgency to press my lips to his. His blue eyes sparkled like sapphires in the moonlight and he looked like an angel. Like someone that would have poetry written about them or be carved out of marble. He was perfect. I wondered if he knew that. I was ready. Ready to take the plunge and move with my instincts that all screamed loud for me to kiss him, but I was afraid I might be misinterpreting. What if I leaned in to kiss him and that was totally not what he was planning on? 

He looked away and I felt like someone ripped a blanket off me in the dead of winter and left me cold and exposed. The loss of his gentle gaze on me was almost painful. He grabbed the pen and paper and passed me a note, eyes back on mine.

YOU THINK TOO MUCH.

 

He's right. I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and thangs are starting to happen! OMG! and Finally! Can you believe how many chapters I waited? Slow burns are HARD! :-) 
> 
> Hope everyone is still enjoying!! Thanks again for all the comments and feedback!


	10. Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Skari, my awesome beta reader and just generally my favorite person in the world.

The sky was still dark and the night was quiet with only whispers of insects and the sounds of our breath. Daryl was waiting. I could tell by the way he looked at me, his eyes, his lips slightly parted, the way he leaned his body towards me just the littlest bit. I didn’t want to think anymore. I wanted to feel. I leaned forward, my lips against his before I even knew what I was doing. He sighed soft and his lips parted more for me and his mouth was warm and gentle. 

I jumped a little when I felt his fingers spreading into my hair, pulling me closer, letting me know this was good. This was OK. The feel of his touch made my whole body tingle. I flicked the tip of my tongue in between his lips to lick inside his mouth, to taste him, to see what it was like inside. He tasted like campfires and summer and sweetness. I would want for this now. Need for it. I wasn't even done kissing him for the first time and I already wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to make him laugh, smile, gasp from my touch. I raked my fingers into his hair too and ran one hand down along his cheek.

I wanted to stretch out with him, press against his body and bury myself in the warmth of him. His shoulders were so broad, his arms were strong and muscled. I moved a hand to his bicep as he dropped one of his to my hip. As our lips moved together rhythmically like wind against leaves, swaying gently back and forth, I groaned and startled myself with the sound. 

Pulling away, I looked behind me, scanned the area for walkers that may have taken advantage of our distraction. We were both out of breath. "One of us 'sposed ta be on watch," I said softly.

He nodded and grabbed his crossbow but stayed seated. 

"Nah, s'almost my shift. Get some rest," I said as I stood and reached down to give him a hand up. When he was standing beside me I realized we were almost the exact same height. I looked him up and down and thought about how perfectly our bodies would fit together. "You better go," I said, smiling. He leaned in and left one last brush of his lips against mine and I felt the ghost of it the next few hours. I spent my shift staring into quiet darkness, switching eager thoughts back and forth between finding Carl and exploring this thing with Daryl. 

The next morning we packed up the SUV and Merle climbed into the driver's seat. Michonne had her hand on the back door as Daryl and Sophia stuffed the last of our belongings in the trunk. 

"Sit up front," I whispered to her.

"No fucking way," she replied quietly, almost laughing at the request.

"Please?" I asked with a desperation in my eyes that must have communicated the importance and she huffed and climbed in front. When Daryl and Sophia rounded the corner, I met his eyes for the first time that morning and tugged on his shirt, signaling for him to slide in next to me. He batted his eyelashes nervously and climbed in first then took Sophia's hand to help her in and get her buckled.

As we rode, I had the book open across our laps. Our thighs were pressed together underneath. I flipped through pages and saw Daryl keep glancing up at me as I studied his language.

I pulled the notepad and pen out of my pocket and put it on the book to scribble-

YOU OK WITH WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT? I wrote, so no one could hear me.

I looked bashfully over to him as he read it and watched him grin. He looked around the vehicle to confirm no one was paying attention to us. He wrote back-

FUCK YEAH.

I stifled a giggle and smiled at him, then wrote- 

DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS ABOUT YOU. WANT TO 

I stopped writing to think, then scratched out "want to" and replaced it with-

WANT YOU.

He took the pen and Michonne turned back and saw us and gave us a hard eye roll. His handwriting got smaller like it was a whisper.

NEVER KISSED ANYONE BEFORE. I LIKED IT. LIKE YOUR LIPS.

Merle had been right. His brother had never been with anyone, not even for a kiss. Made it feel like he was even more mine because he was never anyone else’s. It made me want to show him more. I wrote underneath-

I LIKE YOUR ASS. 

He smiled and laughed his whisper soft laugh, blushing bright pink along his cheeks.

He grabbed for the pen but I held on to it and wrote-

CUTE WHEN YOU BLUSH.

I relinquished the pen to an adorably smiling Daryl and he turned to a new page and wrote-

CUTE THE WAY YOU TILT YOUR HEAD WHEN YOU ARE REALLY PAYING ATTENTION TO SOMETHING.

And I noticed I was doing that even then, just waiting to read his words. Is that a thing I do? Lori never mentioned it.

Daryl wrote again-

MERLE WILL KILL ME.

I looked at him and he had real worry in his eyes. Not about really being killed but about disappointing his brother. I smiled and shook my head. Took the pen back and wrote-

THINK I PRETTY MUCH GOT HIS BLESSING YESTERDAY.

Daryl just looked at me perplexed with his lower lip dropped open in shock. I wanted to lean over and suck on it, but thought better of it with the car load of people.

He snatched the pen back and scribbled sloppy and fast-

DO YOU REALLY NEED TO WAIT FOR ME TO WRITE WTF?!?!

I laughed and Michonne turned around again. 

"What the hell's going on back there?" Merle asked.

"Daryl and Rick are passing notes back and forth," Sophia ratted. I hadn't even noticed her noticing.

"'Bout what?" Merle asked.

"Don't know. They're bein' all secretive but I saw the 'F' word on one."

"Jesus Christ," Merle groaned. After a few moments of silence, Merle asked, "You ain't got nothing to say for yourself back there, Friendly?"

"Nope," I said.

Daryl circled the "WTF" hard and dramatic with the pen and handed it back to me.

SAID HE KNOWS HOW WE LOOK AT EACH OTHER. THINK HE REALIZED I WANTED YOU B4 I DID.

Daryl responded-

HE HATES FAGS.

I wrote back-

YES. HE MENTIONED. BUT SAID HE LOVES YOU NO MATTER WHAT.

I paused then wrote-

ME, HOWEVER... HE WILL KILL ME IF I HURT YOU.

Daryl looked at me with surprise and then up at his brother.

HE'S A WAY BETTER PERSON THAN HE LETS ON.

"I said that exact same thing to him!" I whispered.

He leaned into me a bit, the grin not leaving.

I closed the notepad and shoved it with the pen into Daryl's shirt pocket. I used the book to shelter my hand as I slipped it onto his knee and he reached for it with his hand and threaded his fingers into mine. My heart thudded with a giddiness I hadn't felt since high school. And we squeezed hands and rubbed fingers slowly against each other as we both gazed out at falling droplets of rain just starting to cover the windshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Kissing and feelings! And just a little hint for tomorrow- these two aren't done exploring their newfound affection for one another! You do not want to miss tomorrow's installment!


	11. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't heard, Skarlatha beta'd this WHOLE thing!!! Thanks, bestie!!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments for my first slow burn fic. I now bring you today's chapter---- stuff and thangs will happen!!

The rain started slow. Fat drops banging on the roof of the vehicle heavy with thuds, then all hell broke loose. The sky grew dark, grey and angry and the rain came down in buckets making the windshield look like we were in a car wash. We heard the first rumble of thunder.

Michonne turned to us. "In my experience the storms seem to stir them up. Sounds of the thunder and rain maybe. Seems to get 'em going every which way. Keep our eyes out."

Merle grunted in agreement and slowed to about fifteen miles an hour.

I had already put the book away. Daryl moved Sophia between us for protection and she leaned tight against him. She will probably always see him as her rescuer, her hero. 

It was probably mid-day and we'd hoped to go from the third camp all the way to the last if we didn't find anyone. But I could tell the weather would steal the second half of the day from us and I silently cursed God and Mother Nature both.

We all focused out the windows, squinting through the rain. "Should almost be to the next batch of cabins," Merle said, loud so we could all hear over the sound of a thousand mini explosions of water on metal. 

After twenty minutes of an excruciatingly slow and silent drive, we saw a sign for the campground and slowed to a stop in front of its main cabin. This one looked almost like a full lodge.

"Merle," I said, "Keep the car running and stay with Sophia. The rest of us will run in and clear it if it's not too overrun. 'F it is we'll try one of the smaller cabins." I was surprised all I got was an agreeable nod. We opened the car doors and were soaked as soon as our feet hit the thick mud. The three of us ran to the door and I took the lead inside, my weapon fixed with a silencer. Daryl and Michonne came in behind and flanked me. We heard steps and groans instantly. 

"Got quite a few," Michonne whispered.

"Quiet and one room at a time," I whispered back.

Daryl and Michonne did most of the dispatching in an unspoken agreement to conserve bullets. We got three in the front room. Four in the kitchen. The kills were all relatively easy since the sound of the rain seemed to distract them.

We waved Merle and Sophia in and the older Dixon ran to the building carrying the girl in his arms through the downpour. It was such a contradiction to see the two of them--the burly, grumpy redneck and the innocent, delicate child, like Frankenstein carrying Tinkerbell.

Daryl, Merle, Michonne and I struggled with the dead weight of seven adult bodies while Sophia scavenged through the cupboards and cabinets. We were definitely going to be staying at least one night. So the dead had to go. Moving bodies was not as easy as TV used to make it seem and dragging those seven outside took us a good forty minutes of exhausting work. 

The girls changed into dry clothes that we brought in from the vehicle and Michonne kept Sophia occupied with a checkerboard they found. After Merle changed, he stood out under the covered porch taking a shift of watch even though it was day. He and Daryl had also experienced more trouble with hordes of walkers during storms.

Daryl and I were both still dripping wet and I made a display of grabbing our bags from the kitchen. "Gonna change," I mumbled to Michonne.

"Mhmm," she said moving a red checker two spaces and giving me a raised eyebrow.

Daryl was already in the main bedroom. He had fresh towels in his hands when I walked in and he threw me one. I watched as he towel-dried his sopping wet hair.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, dropping the bags at my feet. After wiping my face with the towel, I looked at Daryl. "Guess we're gonna be stuck here for the rest of the day." I leaned back against the door and laughed at myself. Was I actually trying to be seductive? I can't pull that off. I glanced back to Daryl. His eyes had grown dark and wide. Even though it was day, very little sunlight was piercing through the storm clouds and the room was dim, his eyes like a beacon, a lighthouse twinkling in a stormy sea. 

He signed to me "you thinking?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm thinking."

"Thinking what?" he signed, making sure to use words I've learned.

"'Bout what to do with you," I answered and almost rolled my eyes at myself for how lame that sounded. "Sorry," I laughed awkwardly, "I'm not really smooth about shit like--" 

Before I could finish my sentence, Daryl came towards me so swift and certain he almost seemed to be floating. He pressed me against the door and kissed me. His hands felt like they were everywhere all at once. In my hair, then tugging my hips closer to his, then on my ass then back up to my head, twirling fingers into the curls growing long at the base of my neck. His lips were more confident as I opened my mouth into the kiss. I felt his tongue lick into me and I sucked on it, then pecked and kissed at his lips, taking the bottom one and sucking on it like I'd been daydreaming about since we were passing notes.

My hands found their way to his hips and I groaned at the feel of his body pressed tight to mine. The rain still came down hard above us and the sound of me was swallowed whole by the storm. 

Daryl's nimble fingers had moved down to my shirt and they popped open button after button. He slid the soaking shirt off me and it fell to the floor with a wet thud. He bit his bottom lip again as his eyes mapped over my chest and he reached out slow to touch my abs, his fingers gentle and warm on me. His eyes always coming back to mine. 

I peeled off his wet shirt and stared at his chest. Damp. Tight. Strong. I leaned back towards him slow and kissed him rush-less like we had all the time in the world. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him to me and the feel of his skin against mine was heaven. It was thirst-quenching. Mind-blowing. Knee-shakingly electric.

I brought my shaking, nervous hands back in front of him, fumbling with his belt and his zipper. His hands came to my rescue and helped guide me, his fingers over mine as I pulled the jeans past his ass so they fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, completely naked in front of me. I put a hand on his chest and I could feel his heart rate accelerate. He unzipped and unbuttoned me and the weight of my heavy jeans did most of the work as they slid down my legs.

We took several long moments to stare at each other. We were both hard. Pupils blown and chests heaving with nervous breath. He backed up to the bed and I stepped out of my pants and followed. And I realized I would always follow. I would do anything he wanted. He would be able to completely control me if he wanted to. I was helpless to his innocent eyes and his perfect lips and his delicate fingers and his soft breaths. 

He put arms around me and turned me in one fluid motion to lay me down on my back onto the bed. He climbed on top of me, kissing first my mouth, then my neck, sucking and kissing. Licking a line up my throat. Then peppering kisses down my chest and he kept looking up at me with those bright fucking eyes that just see me and want. He got to my cock and paused before he took it gently in his hand. I inhaled sharply at the feel of those beautiful fingers on me. He looked up and grinned. Then, eyes locked to mine, he leaned down and licked slow from the base of my cock to the tip. I groaned loud in time with a rumble of thunder and shivered.

"Daryl. Fuck," I whispered. He was so fucking sexy. This man. This stranger I'd met barely a week ago. He was everything I never knew I wanted.

He watched me as his mouth slid onto me and he moved it up and down my length, eyes wide. Lori always kept her eyes closed, lost in a dream of her own. But Daryl wanted this. Wanted me. Wanted to see me. This was his dream, my dream. I could see in his eyes that he wanted everything that was happening exactly how it was happening and he wanted to make sure I wanted it too. And Jesus, I did.

He was kneading my ass with one hand, holding me steady with the other as he sucked me in. "You should… you should fuck me," I stuttered. "If you want to..."

I suddenly had this overwhelming desire to have him inside me somehow. Controlling me. I didn't even have any idea what it was gonna feel like, but God, I wanted it. I wanted him. And the way he so clearly wanted me back? No one had EVER wanted me like this.

He sat up and looked down at me. "Think that will hurt you," he signed using small, familiar words for me.

"I'll be OK. I want it," I said. Then signed, "Want you."

He looked back at the bathroom and I knew he was thinking about lube or lotion or something. He gave me the "just a minute" sign and I ogled his ass as he walked over to the bathroom, making a racket as he dug through someone's abandoned overnight bag that sat on the counter.

Thank god people plan for sex when they are on vacation camping. He actually found some real lube. Hell, I was gonna be fine with hand lotion or spit. I just wanted him in me, desperately. 

He came back with furrowed brows, trying to figure out what to do next. He pointed to his fingers and down to my entrance. 

"Yeah, OK." I nodded understanding.

He lubed two fingers and kept eyes on me as he situated himself and massaged a finger against me, his other hand flat on my abdomen. Eyes locked, he slid one finger inside me and I felt my body latch on and try to expel him at the same time.

I nodded to keep him going and he slowly moved his finger deeper, wiggling it and exploring. Feeling me. I gasped and my body arched. It was unfamiliar, this feeling. Foreign but fascinating and the longer he was inside the better it felt. 

"Two fingers?" I asked and he looked down and carefully pressed a second into me and I felt filled. Stretched. Slightly uncomfortable with a sting of pain, but the good kind that gives you chills.

He moved his fingers inside like he was using them to speak. Spreading them wide then together. Pressing each way, moving them together then apart and as deep into me as he could and he hit something inside me that made my whole body convulse. I heard myself whimper, a sound I know for a fact I've never made before in my entire life.

Daryl had been paying close attention to my every breath and he reached back for that magic spot and just kept hitting it as I writhed around his deft fingers in ecstasy. 

"Daryl," I panted. "I won't last. Stop. I'm ready for the rest of you."

He slid his fingers out of me obediently and lubed his own cock as I tilted myself to him. His eyes lit up bright blue as streaks of lightning snapped outside like paparazzi. He leaned down gently to press his lips soft against mine and then positioned himself to press into me. He was thick and hard and he filled me slowly till he was all the way in. The bit of pain it caused at first meant knowing he was in me and I loved it. I loved him. 

He paused once he was all the way in and I watched his face and remembered I was his first anything. He'd never been inside another person before and the thought made me feel possessive and protective of him. He was mine. The thought of him hurt as a child... the thought of him hurt now? I knew I'd have it in me to rip a man's throat out if Daryl was in danger.

His eyes were wild but innocent as he looked down at me. 

"Feel good?" I asked him and he nodded immediately and asked me by using just the slightest nod and flicker of eyes if I was OK.

"Yes. Good. Move in me," I whispered. And he did. He thrust slowly in and out, his breath shaky. His hands trembled as he held on to my hips. He bit his bottom lip with a look of utter amazement. I heard soft whimpers in his throat, sounds like a squirming, needy puppy. A bit of vocal reflex that even his traumatic conditioning couldn't stifle. 

I knew he was close. My hand went to my own cock and he reached down quickly, eagerly and took the hand off my dick and twined his fingers into it and used his other hand to stroke me himself.

"Jesus," I whispered, "I'm gonna cum." And I did. It was warm and tight in my belly then explosive like thunder and lightning and I rode it longer than I ever had before as Daryl pumped into me, arcing his back and mewing softly as I felt him inside me twitching and pulsing.

He pulled out and collapsed beside me, both of us naked, sweaty and spent. He smiled over at me and signed, "Nice. Good."

"I would kill anyone that hurts you," I said. It wasn't a normal thing to say in the old world, but now it seemed an appropriate sentiment to share with a lover. 

He laid with his head on my chest and an arm around me while I continued to tangle fingers through his hair. We gave ourselves ten or fifteen minutes just to be there together. 

Then I murmured, "Guess we should get dressed and get out there before they start wondering."

He sighed heavily and sat up. He pulled on boxers and his T-shirt and dug in the bag with our clothes to pull out a spare notepad and pen. I had been keeping them everywhere. 

He scribbled-

LET'S STUDY THE BOOK TOGETHER. HAVE LOTS OF NEW WORDS I NEED YOU TO KNOW.

I watched over his shoulder as he wrote, pulling on a new pair of dry jeans. Right as I buttoned and zipped, the door knob turned. 

Merle's voice, quieter than I've ever heard it, whispered when he realized it was locked. "Got a bunch coming through." I opened the door quietly, forgetting that I was shirtless and Daryl was basically in underwear. Merle didn't even flinch at it.

"Doors are locked. No flashlights. Quiet," he whispered and he came into the room with Michonne and Sophia close behind. He shut the door behind him and pointed out the window. Walkers were just starting to round the house and walk past. 

The rain was steady but slower and we watched them walk past only seeing their backs. Some jerked back to look behind them as raindrops or rumbles of thunder disoriented them. A loud booming clap signaled a resurgence in the storm and several of the passing walkers turned back to look. Even the one with the familiar, long, brown hair, a slim figure I knew and a worn out flannel shirt that I recognized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... guys--- I'm so sorry to end this awesome "finally doin' it" chapter with the last sentence here. If it's any consolation, I hate myself for putting this drama right here in the afterglow. But y'know... these things happen when writing. Stuff just happens. And thangs. I promise there is lots more good stuff to come!! Tomorrow is a lot of Rickyl emotional hurt/comfort , so I hope you'll keep reading!!! :-)


	12. The Tainted Afterglow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Skarlatha for Beta'ing!

"Lori." 

I whispered it at first when shock still numbed me. Then it registered more fully and I opened my mouth to shout her name as I started to move towards the window. Before my inhale could turn into a blood-curdling scream and before my feet could turn into footsteps, Daryl grabbed me, an arm around my waist and a hand held tightly to my mouth, stifling my shouts. I fought him. Kicked at him and pulled at his arm, but he was stronger and incredibly determined. 

At another slow roll of thunder, the once-Lori turned back away from us with the others and shuffled off. I continued to irrationally scream for her, my voice muffled in Daryl's cupped hand. He tightened his grip, lifting me clear off the ground at one point to keep my feet from trying to run towards the windows in a pointless effort to chase after something that wasn't. 

My fighting and screaming gave way to collapse and cries as the dozen or so walkers disappeared into the haze. My body slumped, dead weight to the ground, and Daryl gently lowered with me. He kept his hand tight over my mouth as I sobbed and he shushed into my ear. We both sat on the floor and the hand that had been around my waist now petted my head. I was buried in his arms as I cried, tears and snot and drool drenching his hand.

No one moved. And after some time, my outright cries had tapered to occasional hiccuping sobs and Daryl finally uncupped his hand from my mouth.

"Didn't see no kids, Friendly," Merle said solemnly, "'f that's any consolation."

"Sorry, Rick," Michonne said quietly. 

I heard a sniffle from Sophia. "She was real nice."

None of them mentioned the fact that Daryl was petting me like a child, that I was leaning into it gratefully or that we were both only partially dressed. Daryl pulled back to sign to me. The fact that he'd never be able touch me and talk at the same time made me feel even sadder than I already was, but I watched for his words. 

He signed the word "See" then he finger-spelled "S-h-a-n-e?" and lifted his brow in question. It took me a minute to put the letters together. 

"Shane," Merle translated. And I snapped at him for no other reason than I was angry with the whole world.

"I know the fucking alphabet, Merle." I looked to Daryl and shook my head. "I didn't see him."

"Me either," Sophia confirmed. "Or my mom."

Daryl animatedly signed to Merle, clearly growing tired of using small, simple words to communicate on my level. I desperately needed more time with my book. I wanted Daryl's words for myself, not shared, not passed on secondhand. I looked to Merle, expecting him to be a dick about translating since I snapped at him. But he wasn't.

He watched his brother and started translating as Daryl's fingers still flew through the air. "Don't assume the worst. Most likely if they all were taken down at the same time, they'd have traveled together. Carl's got to be alive and he still has someone he knows with him. Don't lose hope. Same for your mom, Sophia," he said, Merle's rugged voice but Daryl's soft words.

We stayed quiet a bit longer, focused outside to make sure that was the last of the walkers. Merle finally sighed heavily. "'M hungry," he turned to Michonne, "Why don't you get your sweet ass in the kitchen and fix dinner or some shit?"

"Because I'm a woman? A black woman? I should be serving you big strong men dinner?" she sniped. 

"Well, sounds like you're answerin' your own damn question just fine all by yourself. Plus I gave you a damn compliment or didn't ya hear that part?" Merle grumbled.

"'Sweet ass' is your idea of a compliment?" 

"I didn't say 'black ass.' That's an improvement for a Dixon," he answered. 

"She's not black, she's African American," Sophia said softly. 

"Whatever!" Merle shouted and stormed out.

"Well, you guys were right. He's a real asshole. How'd you turn out so sweet?" Michonne asked Daryl.

He waved a hand at the departed Merle and rubbed his fist in a circle over his heart.

"That one means sorry," I said softly, finally rejoining the present moment.

"Ain't on you, Daryl," Michonne smiled. 

She and Sophia walked out and left Daryl and I alone and sitting on the floor, me against the wall and Daryl Indian-style in front of me. He was completely focused on me. I willed him not to try signing because if it was something I didn't understand I was afraid my mood would turn frustration into anger. 

As if he read my mind, he took pen and paper instead and wrote-

TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO.

"There ain't nothin'," I said, "but thanks. And thanks for, y'know... keeping me quiet. Coulda really screwed us."

He nodded and scribbled-

SHOULD EAT.

"Not hungry," I said. 

And that was it. He didn't badger me with questions or push me to talk. He didn't even try to coax me off the floor. He just sat and waited patiently, keeping himself available if I needed him and not the least bit put out by my despondent mood or my silence.

Several hours later it was dark out. Night-dark, not storm-dark, although the rain still fell. I'd heard Michonne taking a shift on watch out front on the porch. Heard Sophia talk about finding some books. Merle grumbled about "Adam and Steve"--I assume that was us--not being worth a shit for watch tonight and he was going to catch a few hours of shut-eye before it was his turn again.

I'd been grieving since I saw her and hadn't moved from my spot on the floor. Neither had Daryl. He didn't fidget or sigh impatiently or tap a foot or anything. He didn't sign or write. He was just there. And I was glad. All he did was put a hand on my calf and occasionally rub his thumb over it, a quiet reminder that he was at my beck and call.

Mostly I didn't know how to feel. I'd loved Lori for twenty years. We were high school sweethearts. She was the mother of my child. Though we'd fallen out of love the last couple years, I would always have a place in my heart for her. And knowing she was gone from this world, well… all gone but her body... it hurt like shards of glass lodged into my flesh. It was just plain--no other word for it--sad. 

Daryl was right. Not seeing Carl was a very good sign that he was still alive and probably close. But he'd likely just seen his mother die. Thought I was dead. He must feel so alone. The sound of the rain, though calmer now and without the rumble of storms, was probably the same sound Carl was hearing now. Tomorrow. We would find him tomorrow. 

I stood slowly and Daryl's eyes latched to mine. "Gotta piss," I said. He nodded and I heard his stomach growl.

"Thanks for sitting with me. Maybe we should find somethin' to eat after all now." He nodded again and got up swift and silent. He had a way of moving that was just as quiet as the rest of him. 

After I relieved myself outside, I joined Daryl in the kitchen. He had his pen and paper at the table with Sophia and some kind of jerky on the plate in front of him.

I glanced at his side of a conversation-

TRY IT.

TASTES LIKE CHICKEN.

ROCKY AND BULL-WINKLE?

WHAT'S NICK AT NITE?

Sophia had just put something in her mouth when I sat down and I watched her chew as her face contorted into a frown. She spit out the hunk of meat right as Daryl put a hand under her mouth to catch it. Then he popped the chewed--I'm now guessing squirrel--jerky into his own mouth. 

The kid "ewww'd" as I said, "That was disgusting," with a smile toying at my lips. He beamed at me when he sensed the smile. He wrote-

PRETTY GOOD. SHE TENDERIZED IT FOR ME.

"How could you do that?" Sophia giggled, still making a big to-do over it. 

DIXONS DON'T WASTE FOOD.

"Merle ate a whole row of Oreos while you guys were staring at each other on the floor and he licked the white part out and threw the black part on the ground," she pointed to a pile of crumbled cookies in the corner of the kitchen.

Daryl just shook his head. "You ain't nothing like him," Sophia noted. 

THANK YOU, Daryl wrote, underlining it hard three times. She giggled.

Sophia went to bed and I ate cold soup straight from the can. Daryl and I sat together quietly.

"I'm sad," I said, and Daryl nodded. "Guess I actually believed I'd see her again. Probably would have hugged, kissed and cried." Daryl looked away and hid himself under his hair, uncomfortable over my words as I continued. "Then an hour later we'd have been fighting and making passive aggressive comments to each other. But I'd take that any day rather than, y'know."

He nodded again. Always listening. Paying close attention to every word.

"Worst part is knowing the shell of her is still wandering around out there."

Daryl scribbled-

SORRY I DIDN'T GO OUT TO PUT HER DOWN.

I smiled. "Jesus, no. Too much risk. I wouldn't have let ya." I kept my eyes to his as I ladled in the last bits of cold chicken noodle. "Thanks for the thought though." He nodded as he took another bite of the jerky. 

"Kinda put a damper on your first time," I said with a sympathetic smile. "Hope you liked it."

He wrote-

YOU DE-FLOWERED ME! DIDNT SEE THAT COMING WHEN I MET YA.

He bit on the pen cap and grinned as I chuckled then added-

YEAH- I LIKED IT A LOT. WASNT THAT FAIRLY OBVIOUS?

"I just wanted to hear ya say it," I said then cringed at my use of the words 'hear' and 'say.' "Well, ya know. See ya write it." Correcting myself felt even more awkward.

He brushed off my flub with a wave of his hand. Then wrinkled his brow and wrote-

ARE YOU DISAPPOINTED THAT I'M MUTE?

The pen cap went back between his lips.

I wanted to give him absolute reassurance so I responded slowly, choosing my words carefully in order to be crystal clear. 

"Daryl, I like being with you. Like communicating with you. Like looking at you and touching you. And I would like all that if you were missing a leg or wore an eye patch or had webbed feet or a lazy eye or missing teeth or a receding hairline. You being mute don't really mean shit."

Yes, there was part of me that grew frustrated at our current limitations, but I'd get better at signing. And I already read him well, his eyes, his expressions, his body language. With more time, that too would get even easier than it already was. 

I thought about the feelings I had earlier--not ever being able to have him touch me and talk. And, yes, that felt like I was robbed of a little something. But did it make me reconsider wanting Daryl like I do? Absolutely not.

"Are you disappointed that I was a cop?" I asked to show how ridiculous his question was.

WHO KNEW I HAD A THING FOR A MAN IN UNIFORM. (WHO KNEW I HAD A THING FOR MEN AT ALL. DIDNT SEE THAT COMING EITHER.)

"Maybe it's just a thing for me?" I said in my goofy way of trying to be flirtatious about it.

"Maybe," Daryl signed and smiled.

"Should get some sleep, probably," I suggested. He chewed nervously on the pen cap. 

I CAN TAKE THE SOFA, he wrote.

"I'd rather you sleep next to me in the bed," I said softly, noticing that my head was cocked slightly to the side as I waited for him to respond. The way he thought was cute.

Daryl grinned. His grin was always this bashful, awkward, crooked half-smile, like his face was not used to the muscle movements it took to show happiness. 

DIDNT WANT TO ASSUME. DONT KNOW HOW THESE THINGS WORK. 

I took the pen out of his hand and put it and the paper in his pocket, and I took his hand to encourage him to stand with me. I kissed him slowly on the mouth, no tongue. Just gentle.

"Here's how it works," I said with my lips only inches from his. "You can kiss me anytime you feel like it." I kissed him soft again. "You can sleep with me in any bed we stumble upon." Kiss. "You can ask for whatever you want from me." Kiss. "If you are sad or mad about anything you can tell me about it and I'll comfort you." Kiss. "If I'm sad or mad you can comfort me." Kiss. 

Every time I pulled my lips off his, his body leaned in, aching from the loss of the touch and his forehead crinkled in concentration of my words.

"Getting it?" I asked. He nodded and I took him by the hand to the room we'd been in earlier. He crawled in bed with the boxers and T still on. I took my jeans off and slipped in beside him in just my boxers. I tucked myself next to him and rested my head on his chest and a fell into a dreamless sleep to the steady sound of rain and the feel of his hand stroking my back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only chapter twelve! Still another eight to go. Where is Carl!! :-)


	13. Click

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three cheers for Skarlatha!

I woke alone to bright grey outside the windows and the sounds of Merle and Michonne snapping at each other over spinning tires. I sat up and looked over to the empty half of the bed. A note was on the pillow. 

RICK- WENT HUNTING. DIDN'T WANT TO WAKE YOU. 

I pinched my fingers to the bridge of my nose as a knot grew, hard and dense, in my stomach. I was upset that Daryl left. And left by himself. It's dangerous in this world. Even more dangerous alone, especially for him. I wondered if he had pen and paper with him. The set we wrote on last night was still on the table where we left it, so probably not. I tried to convince myself that worrying like this about a grown man was irrational and unreasonable. I had to get used to this world the way it was, and I knew the over-protective feelings I had about Daryl weren't necessary. He didn't need to be taken care of or babied. He just needed my friendship and, I don't know, my affection, to make some things nice in this world.

I ran a hand through my hair then down my stubbled cheeks and got out of bed. After I pulled on jeans and a fresh shirt, I walked out to the kitchen. Sophia sat at the table eating dry Cheerios in a bowl with a spoon. She looked up as I dug sleep out of the corners of my eye. 

"What's going on?" I asked her. 

She answered as she finished chewing. "Daryl's hunting. Said I'd like rabbit better than squirrel. Merle and Michonne," she pointed towards the front of the cabin with her spoon, "are trying to get the car unstuck. 'S in mud."

"Thanks for the thorough recap," I said as I sat next to her and took a handful of Cheerios from the box, watching out the window with my thoughts lasered in on Daryl. 

"Want a bowl?" Sophia asked, dragging me out of my habitual over-thinking.

"Nah, don't need it if we don't got milk," I said.

"I like to pretend. Miss milk," she said eating another spoonful. "Merle said he knows about a special kinda milk he can find for me that would still be good 'cause it don't need fridgeratin,'" she said excitedly. 

My almond milk. That dick. All that mockery and he's gonna act like he's riding in on a white horse saving the day with my tit-less milk. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Merle's full of surprises," I muttered.

I walked out to the vehicle and knew instantly we were fucked. Two of the tires were sunk in mud, almost completely buried in it. 

"We're makin' it fucking worse at this point," Michonne said as she climbed out of the driver's seat. Merle came around from behind absolutely covered in splotches of kicked up mud.

I looked past him, hoping to see Daryl in some corner of the yard skinning a rabbit. "Ain't here, Friendly. He's huntin'. Told him to keep it to an hour. Thought we'd have the car out by then, but ain't lookin' good." 

"How far to the last site?"

"'Bout ten miles," Merle said.

"Could walk it. Carl's got to be there. Shane and Sophia's mom, too. We could do ten miles easy in the daylight we have," I suggested, trying to sound neutral even though I was eager to move when Daryl returned.

"What if we run into walkers?" Michonne asked.

Merle shrugged and looked in the direction of the next camp. "Well, even last night was only about a dozen. Not heavy population up here. Could take a lesson from the kid. Higher ground in the trees if we had to. Then pick 'em off."

Michonne nodded. 

"Good," I said, glancing around the perimeter of woods again, "We can go as soon as Daryl gets back. Let's make sure we've all got our backpacks full of essentials." 

About half an hour later, my backpack was ready, stuffed with extra socks, several cans of soup, bottled water, extra knives, matches, flashlights and the sign language book. I was waiting on the porch, the others gabbing inside at the kitchen table, when Daryl finally walked through the trees, two rabbits hanging from a string around his neck. I got up and walked fast to meet him.

He signed, "Are you mad?" as I made my way to him.

He probably could see it in my expression. My posture. "No," I lied. "Well, kinda. Just... Next time you can wake me. I'd have gone with you. Too dangerous for you out alone."

He signed and it was clear from the start of it that they were words above my level. "I can't understand that," I said, "Write it," knowing full well he didn't have the paper and pen. I already hated myself for being passive-aggressive. He put a hand to the pocket they should have been in and then looked downright frustrated. I took them out of my pocket and threw them at him and his reflexes caught them before they fell to the ground.

He scribbled-

DON'T NEED A BABYSITTER, RICK.

"Just worried about you. What if you ran into other survivors and--"

"I'm not a baby," he signed, being sure to use words I knew.

"I know how people react in these kind of extreme circumstances. Desperate people can do terrible things, and what if--" 

Daryl interrupted me again with signs. "You think too much. Worry too much. Too much. I'm fine."

I took a deep breath and sighed. "Yeah," I relented. I didn't want to fight and I knew he had a point. "I'm sorry. Just hated not having you bein' the first thing I saw when I woke up. Was kinda lookin' forward to that," I pouted. Daryl looked over my shoulder and then slowly pressed his lips to mine when he saw the coast was clear. His lips were dry and soft and comforting and I breathed easier already.

"Our first fight," he signed afterwards. 

I grinned from ear-to-ear. He was so damn adorable. I patted his arm and tugged him to the cabin. "Come'on, vehicle's fucked. We're goin' on foot. It will be like a romantic hike through the woods but with a third wheel and fourth wheel and fifth wheel."

\--------------

About four or five miles later over muddy roads, I watched Daryl ahead of me pointing at tracks with Michonne and Sophia by his side. Merle walked next to me. 

I kept scanning the woods, trying not to let my guard down. Every step was a step closer to Carl and I didn't want us to stumble into walkers and perish a stone's throw from my boy.

"You fuck him?" Merle asked, voice rough and gravelly and low enough so it wouldn't be heard by anyone else but me. 

I looked at him, then back at the tree line, then rested my eyes on Daryl's form up ahead of us. 

"No," I answered and heard an audible sigh of relief from Merle. "He fucked me," I responded. 

Merle choked on an inhale loud enough that the three ahead turned back briefly.

"Swallowed a bug," I said to them.

After he regained composure, he said, "Well, least he's the man in whatever the fuck this thing is you're doing,"

I didn't give him the luxury of a response. We walked a few more minutes in silence.

"When we find your son, you gonna forget all about my baby brother? 'Cause remember our arrangement. You hurt him, you die."

I looked at Merle then back ahead to admire the way Daryl walked. Slow and deliberate, crossbow hanging over his shoulder. I traced the lines of his arm muscles with my gaze. Watched how his fingers rested by his side when he wasn't using them to speak.

"I have the capacity to care about more than one person, Merle," I answered.

Before he could respond, Daryl walked quickly off the road, eyes down focused on prints in front of him. Michonne put an arm out to block Sophia from following.

I jogged up to him as he stared down to examine four dead bodies, all turned then ended with bullets to the head. Three men and a young boy. Daryl met my eyes and finger-spelled Shane.

"No," I answered. Then in a whisper I added, "We should see if Sophia recognizes any of them." Daryl nodded and we both stood, Merle coming up to our sides as we did.

I waved Sophia over and put a hand on her shoulder. "You recognize any from your group?" She looked from face to face and then shook her head. "No. Never seen them."

"Bet it was some of your group killed 'em," I said. "Looks recent too. We're gettin' close!"

After another couple miles I was walking beside Daryl as he taught me how to tell time by the sun using our limited sign language and basic gesturing. It was about 6 p.m. and Merle and Sophia were both dragging well behind as we turned a sharp corner in the road. As my glance dropped from the sky to Michonne in front of us, I heard the familiar click of a cocked gun. And then a second.

The three of us froze and turned slowly towards the sounds, hands already raising. We faced a black guy, bald and stocky. He looked like he was already pretty fucking tired of the apocalypse.

"Don't move a fucking muscle," he said, slow and clear. 

The woman beside him had long blond hair and a fierce determination about her, though it was clear she was inexperienced and nervous. The safety was on and the weapon shook just the slightest bit in her hands.

"Are you Sophia's momma?" I asked.

"What?" she said, confused.

"You got Sophia?" the black man asked. And just then Merle and Sophia came around the corner.

Merle grabbed his gun and aimed back because he's an idiot. 

"T-Dog! Andrea!!" Sophia squealed, running to them with a sudden burst of energy. 

"C'mere girl," T-Dog said affectionately, but he still had the gun aimed at Michonne. Andrea was aimed on Daryl. "You put your fucking gun down," T-Dog said to Merle.

"Fuck you, nig--"

"Merle!" I shouted. "They got a gun on your fucking brother. Do what they say."

I turned to watch him as he slowly complied. "This the thanks we get for finding your little girl?" he asked.

Sophia quietly asked Andrea, "Is my mom OK?"

"Yeah, baby. She's gonna be so happy to see you!" Andrea responded, but kept her gun still aimed.

"These are the good guys, T-Dog," Sophia said. 

"Carl," I said. "My son. Is he still with you?"

Andrea and T-Dog traded glances. "Thought his daddy died before it all even started?" T-Dog asked.

"I was in a coma. Left for dead, I guess. I came outta it and the world had gone to shit in the months I was out. Been looking for my boy. Please. Is he with you? Is he still OK?"

T-Dog lowered his weapon and nodded to Andrea to follow his lead.

"Yeah man," he said and then rubbed a nervous hand over his smooth bald head. "His momma's gone though. Your wife. 'M sorry."

I nodded. 

"We seen her. Turned. Last night," Sophia said quietly.

"Rick Grimes," I said and extended my hand. T-Dog took it and shook firmly. 

"T-Dog. Andrea," he said.

"This here's Michonne, Daryl, and the idiot in the back is Merle. The Dixons," I said, motioning to them, "are brothers." I lowered my voice. "One in the back takes some gettin' used to."

"We gonna have ta learn a secret gang handshake 'er some shit first or are ya gonna take us back to yer camp?" Merle bellowed. 

I rolled my eyes and apologized with the hand sign. "Sorry for him. All bark and no bite though. Promise." And I made the 'scouts honor' sign that I always used with Carl when I made promises. Daryl met my eyes with a grateful glance. 

Andrea nodded. "We're about a mile up the road. Let's get back," she said.

The seven of us trudged through the woods with T-Dog in the lead.

"This one ever talk?" Andrea asked me nodding her head towards Daryl. 

"No," I said and reached over to put a hand on his arm as I spoke. "He's mute. Can hear ya though."

"I can hunt for your group," Daryl signed to me, and I felt a sense of pride and closeness when I realized that I knew all the words and could be his voice. 

Andrea looked to me, and I translated. "Said he can hunt for your group. He's amazing with trackin' animals and shit like that." I realized I still had a hand on his arm when Andrea's eyes darted over to it. I dropped my hand but instantly regretted the loss of feeling his warm skin against my touch.

"I been in charge a hunting. Me and Shane," she said. 

"Shane!" I smiled. "He's OK too and with you?"

She nodded. "You were his partner on the force then?"

"Yeah," I answered. 

Merle walked on the other side of Daryl. "Great. TWO Pigs. My day just keeps gettin' better and better," he grumbled.

"There anyone you don't hate, Merle?" Andrea asked. 

"I like you, sugar-tits." He leered. 

"Oh Jesus," Andrea said and walked up ahead faster to catch up with Sophia, T-dog and Michonne.

I finally took a moment to let myself get excited. He was right ahead of us. Safe and alive. I thought of the moments after I woke up in the hospital. The loneliness. The emptiness. The helplessness, knowing my son was somewhere in a dangerous new world without me. And I did it. I found him. 

I looked over to Daryl, "I can't wait for you to meet my son," I said with a huge smile. He grinned back and nodded shyly. I reached over and grabbed his hand. I had been considering what Merle said. And Daryl might not understand that I can have my son and still have him. 

From what Merle had told me about their childhood, I knew Daryl probably didn't understand love and family very well. I held tightly to his hand and after a moment he returned the grip as he ducked his head to hide behind his hair. He seemed already to have gotten much shyer with the additional number of bodies in our group. 

"Just up ahead," T-Dog said, turning back to us as we dropped our hands apart. Sophia shouted, "Mommy!" and took off towards the cabins tucked away in the woods in front of us.

A woman with short, grey hair fell to her knees as Sophia reached her and her cries of joy were overwhelming. I started scanning the other faces that were slowly coming to her side as Daryl patted me on the back and pointed a finger to the smallest figure. He was coming from behind one of the cabins and walking slowly toward us, rubbing his eyes like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Carl!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carl!!!!! Oh my God!!!


	14. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skarlatha is forced to read all my fics multiple times slowly and with a fine-toothed comb...and she's still willing to be my friend!

"Dad!?" 

Hearing my son's voice just then was as exciting as hearing his first cries in the hospital room when he was born. I ran to him, threw my arms around him and lifted him into the air, despite the fact that a 12-year-old was probably too old for that. He hugged me tighter than he had in years. He'd been growing up in the before-world and was just hitting the age where it wasn't cool to hug your dad anymore, and I immediately put it on my list of things that weren't too bad about the apocalypse--'it's no longer un-cool to hug your dad.' It was right up there with 'I would never have met Daryl without the apocalypse.' When the world is so bleak, you have to take time to look on the bright side.

"I thought you were dead," Carl cried into my shoulder as I put his feet back on the ground and knelt to him.

"Shoulda been, I guess," I answered. "Are you OK? Are you hurt?" I ran my hands up his arms like I would after he'd fall off his bike, checking for cuts or scrapes.

He sniffled. "Yeah, I'm fine. But..." I nodded. "I know, Carl. I'm so sorry." He withered into full on sobs and fell back into my arms. "We didn't even get her body, Dad. I couldn't even bury her! I'm sorry!"

I patted his back and tried like hell to keep my voice steady for him. "That's alright. That's OK. Don't matter 'bout her body. She's in heaven and she helped me to find you. I know it."

After I felt his breath steady, I stood. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and I thanked God and Lori for this miracle. I suddenly realized maybe I believed in some of that shit. 

I took my hat off and dropped it on Carl's head and he shifted it so he could see. I looked up at the rest of the group and soft smiles surrounded our reunions, mine and Carl's and Sophia's and her mom's. I reached out my hand and started making acquaintances. Glenn and Dale, and Sophia's mom Carol. Then I turned to my new family and bulls-eyed into Daryl first and foremost.

"Daryl, this is my son, Carl," I beamed. Daryl had an equally huge smile. He signed "same eyes," and I nodded, "Yeah."

Carl reached out his hand and shook Daryl's. 

"Daryl is mute but he can hear ya," I explained ahead of the inevitable question. "He saved my life," I said pensively as I let my gaze linger a beat too long on Daryl's, a way to privately communicate that I was still with him.

"Thanks," Carl said, and I was so proud of his manners. Daryl signed to him and I translated. 

"That means 'you're welcome,'" I explained. 

"Daryl ain't the only fucker saved your life, asshole."

"And this is Merle," I said, after his eloquent interruption, "and Michonne."

Michonne reached out her hand and shook Carl's. "Heard a lot about ya, kiddo," she said happily.

Merle stood, arms crossed, face in its customary scowl. "Lookin' forward to not havin' ta listen to yer daddy whinin' and moanin' 'bout findin' ya. That'll be nice."

Michonne kept her smile wide and tried to mumble through the side of her mouth, "Merle, don't be an asshole ta the kid."

"Goddammit, woman! How come every time you scold me 'bout how ta be 'round kids you's cussin' like a sailor?"

As the two of them continued on a hate-filled rant, I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Rick?"

I turned to a face I knew well. One I saw every day in high school, each morning when I got into the squad car and more Saturday nights than not. "Shane," I said, my voice filled with affection.

As we hugged he kept babbling, "How!? How? I thought you were a dead man."

"Wasn't meant to be, brother," I responded.

As we pulled apart I clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Thank you, man. Thank you for taking care of my family."

"Wasn't even a thought, man. Automatic." 

I nodded. Then I waved my arm to Daryl, who was biting a thumb nail off to the side of the circle of chattering, excited survivors. "This is Daryl Dixon. Saved my life when I woke up, running in the streets of town with a damn hospital gown on. No idea yet what a walker was."

As Shane reached out his hand, Merle stopped in mid-argument with Michonne and looked at me. "Goddammit, Friendly! I saved your bitch ass too! Daryl ain't a one-man show."

"Oh yeah", I said, "And this is Merle."

"Always a fucking afterthought with you, you ungrateful prick," Merle muttered. 

I put my hand back on Carl's shoulder for no other reason than he was there and I could barely believe it was real. 

Daryl signed, "Sorry for my brother. He can fight and hunt for the group," and I translated. Poor Daryl was already concerned about Merle getting them tossed out. 

Shane nodded at Daryl and then me and said, "Deaf?"

"Just mute. Can hear ya." I turned to Michonne and waved her over from her conversation with Carol. "And this is Michonne," I said.

"Hi, Shane Walsh," he said with his customary bright smile. "That a katana ya got there?" He tilted his head at her, clearly intrigued. 

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Nice. Quiet weapon. Takes a head clean off, I bet,"

"It does," Michonne smiled, "I can show ya sometime." 

"Hell, I'd love to see that."

I knew Shane pretty damn well. And I knew that a conversation was going to happen in the next few days where he'd start asking questions about Michonne. Asking what I think of her. Talking about her with that puppy dog crush way of his. Shane doesn't fall for chicks often and, more frequently than not, his interests are more of the one-night stand variety, but once in a while I'd see this. Instant attraction to a woman who was strong and confident. She was definitely his type and I smiled at the thought of loves like that happening even in the end of the world.

"Daryl uses a crossbow!" I said, not realizing until after I said it that I had the same enthusiasm in my voice as a five-year-old did talking about dinosaurs. "It's quiet AND it's a distance weapon."

Shane and Michonne both looked at me blankly like I was totally interrupting. Whatever. I thought Daryl's crossbow was awesome.

\--------------

The evening was spent reconnecting and getting to know each other around the fire. There didn't need to be planning or strategy yet, but I knew it would come, so I catalogued things I learned about people. Glenn was a good driver. Andrea needed more lessons with guns. Merle was still an asshole. Things like that. Tomorrow would have to be a new day. And with it would come talk of the future. How would we continue to survive in this world? What would make the most sense?

Merle was making about as good of an impression on the new group as he had made on me. More than once, I came to his rescue, telling the others that he grew on you after a while. 

When we first sat at the fire, I'd made sure I was flanked by Carl and Daryl. The latter had tried to sidle away to the outskirts of the group, but I gently took his arm and guided him to a spot by me, giving him a pleading look the whole time. He did it, but I could tell he wasn't thrilled about the new number of people. He chewed again on a thumbnail as everyone talked and as we all huddled closer around the fire, I let a thigh touch his so he'd feel me there even if I wasn't looking or talking directly to him. 

I was learning that he was tremendously bashful around new people, especially in large groups, and I hoped that was something he'd get over as he got used to things. But I was making a mental note to be sure he felt comfortable and to be by his side as he acclimated. He saved my life. He helped me find my son. I... had incredibly strong feelings for him. I felt a loyalty and kinship that I'd only ever seen between army buddies in war movies. They didn't kiss in those war movies… or fuck. But there was a certain intensity to those relationships that paralleled what Daryl and I seemed to have.

As we sat around the fire, Shane told the story of the group's survival to date. And Carl chimed in at various points to give details like how disgusting some of the walkers were or how he found 112 ounces of chocolate pudding. Their initial idea was Fort Benning, like I'd assumed. Then they ran into Dale and Andrea and some others who had since perished and found out that the promise of shelter there was a lie. 

They ran into some bad groups of survivors too, and decided to get away from the heavily populated areas for a while. Lay low. Then their vehicle and several of their people, Jim and Jacqui, never returned from a run. They'd been surviving on spring water, a dwindling supply of canned goods and other items scavenged from a grocery store, and whatever meat Andrea and Shane could come back with, which hadn't been much. Mostly smaller prey, and since no one really knew how to gut or skin, they knew they were probably losing a lot of meat to ignorance. 

"Daryl and Merle are experienced hunters," I said to the group. Half bragging about Daryl and half trying to convince everyone that Merle was worth keeping around.

I looked to Daryl and he nodded and took the paper out that I'd purposefully stuffed in his pocket once we settled in with the group.

WE WILL GO OUT FIRST THING TOMORROW. DEER TRACKS NEARBY. MIGHT BE ABLE TO GET SOMETHING BIGGER.

I read it to the group and there was a chorus of chattered excitement over the idea of it. I looked proudly to Daryl who had curled back in on himself biting back into his thumbnail like a security blanket.

Carl peered around me to Daryl. "You know how to fish?"

Daryl nodded with the thumb still in his mouth.

"There's fish in our creek here but I can't figure out how to get any 'cause we don't have rods. Got any ideas?"

I was so impressed with my son. Felt like standing up and bragging loudly that this was my kid that I raised. Not at all uncomfortable around a guy who was mute. Not awkward about how to communicate. It hadn't escaped my notice that no one else had spoken directly to Daryl. The couple of times questions went his way, they were asked to me even though I'd clearly explained that Daryl could hear just fine. Not my boy. He held Daryl's nervous gaze and waited patiently for an answer either by writing or signing.

Daryl looked to me when he signed and I translated, "Yes, I can help."

He then got his paper and started writing and my son got up and nudged me aside so he could could sit between us and read over Daryl's shoulder. Everyone talked at once but suddenly I didn't hear a thing. My head was just filled with the sight of Carl and Daryl communicating. 

Once it got later, the decision was made to add a third cabin to the ones they were sleeping in. Sophia went to stay in the cabin with her mom, Andrea and Dale after his turn at first watch was up. Shane invited Michonne to stay with him, Glenn and T-dog. It wasn't a hard sell. Shane pitched it as a Merle-free cabin and Michonne jumped at the opportunity. 

Merle, Daryl, Carl and I took the last. Merle was out quick and Carl fell asleep on the couch. I carried him to bed, a thing I hadn't done in years, and it felt so good to hold him in my arms. When I came back out to the living room, Daryl was kicked back in the recliner. I sat across from him.

"You OK?"

He nodded.

"Seem out of sorts," I said. "Not big on the numbers?"

He smiled and scribbled on paper for me-

NOT MUCH FOR CROWDS AND LOTS OF VOICES AND STUFF. IT'S OK.

I smiled softly at him. "They all seem like good people. This world... We need the numbers now." He nodded and signed, "Yes. I know. It's good."

After another quiet moment he signed, "You have an amazing son." 

I smiled, proud. "I do," I said.

Daryl stood, put his crossbow over his shoulder. "I need sleep. Hunt tomorrow." 

I nodded and stood too. He would sleep in the other twin bed in Merle's room and I'd be in with Carl. I knew he'd be gone before I woke. We walked a few steps side by side and before we parted, I grabbed his arm gently and kissed him. We had the luxury of a little time, so it wasn't just a peck. He was hesitant at first, nervous almost, as if he hadn't been sure what might change between us with the new people and new circumstances. 

I put a hand lightly on his waist and pressed into him with my tongue, trying to communicate. What I was trying to communicate, I didn't quite know. That he was mine? I was his? That nothing would change what's already developed between us? A promise of what he'll have more of if he stays safe during the next morning's hunt? His hands stayed to himself, one on the crossbow over his shoulder and one by his side. The lack of his hands on me made me nervous and I worried, just slightly, that maybe he was having second thoughts. As we broke the kiss, I asked, "You still… want me, right?" My voice was small and nervous. 

 

Daryl nodded unequivocally. 

"It's important to me that you know nothing has changed with us, OK?" He nodded again. "Be safe tomorrow," I told him firmly.

He signed, "Promise. Good night, Rick." The abbreviated sign for my name had become the letter "R", crossed fingers, held over his heart. Middle finger crossing pointer over his heart like he was hoping, fingers crossed, for my love.

I sat on the bed with Carl and watched him breathe. I felt like it wouldn't be so hard to live in this world now. I had my boy back. I had Daryl and Shane and a damn good group of survivors. I felt good about the future for the first time in a long time. Even in the before-world, before even my coma, there were years of a failing marriage and an impending divorce. The future always looked bleak and depressing. And although this new future was filled with walking, hungry corpses, I could see good and happiness and hope in what lay before us. 

I couldn't sleep. Too much excitement for one day. Too many thoughts running through my head. I dug a flashlight and the sign language book out of my bag. Merle had given me hell about dragging the heavy book with us, but after he translated Daryl's signs with "He said only pussies use silverware," when he actually said, "This oatmeal tastes like vomit," I knew I needed to keep learning so I could eliminate the middleman. 

After an hour or so shifting between new words and glances of my son sleeping safely next to me, I finally felt sleep overtake me. And I drifted into the restful slumber of a man whose son is underneath the same roof, safe. A man who’s found more than he even knew he was looking for. And I dreamt of a creekbed, where Daryl, Carl and I fished quietly under a peaceful blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh that's nice. All is right with the world. But there's still six more chapters left. Is this the calm before a storm?


	15. Getting Too Comfortable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Skarlatha! I don't know if you guys realize how much time and effort it takes to beta a long fic like this, but I can assure you- it's a lot. I should probably be paying her!

The first two weeks that we were all together went fairly smoothly. Daryl and Merle had kept everyone fed with an abundance of deer and squirrel. There were only two walker sightings and both were ended relatively quickly, one with Daryl's crossbow and one with Michonne's katana.

Luckily, Shane was there to see Michonne's kill, or else I'd have had to hear him lament for days about missing it. The two of us have been friends for as long as I can remember, but we both have type-A personalities and both have a tendency to take charge and so I know how he can be. Shane can be hot-headed and unpredictable, but when a woman catches his eye, a lot of his focus will follow. As I'd anticipated, the constant chatter about Michonne had begun and that was a good thing. It kept him occupied and steady.

Carl was such a survivor. I was amazed at how he'd adapted to this new world. He had previously-established daily chores, like gathering firewood, that he took very seriously. He went fishing with Daryl and they caught enough for everyone to have a little. I'd watched with a goofy grin plastered across my face as the two made fishing rods by hand. They managed to communicate with body language and pointing. And at one point Daryl came over to me with a pout, reaching into my pocket for pen and paper that he should have been carrying. They spent the afternoon talking with the help of the notepad while they waited for bites.

Daryl was still bashful around most of the others and only really seemed to be himself in the evenings when it was just me, Carl and Merle. Daryl had a quiet way about him where people just never seemed to notice him. No one was ever intentionally rude, but other than Michonne and Sophia no one from outside our cabin ever found a reason to talk to him other than to murmur thanks over mouthfuls of fresh kill.

In two weeks we only had privacy twice by sneaking away from the fireside chat, Daryl subtly signing for Merle to watch Carl. Both times were a bit rushed, but still intense and filled with affection for one another. We read my book together every single night, sitting on the couch thigh to thigh giggling and sneaking touches and occasional kisses. And during the days I'd take opportunities to teach some to Carl. He'd grown fond of Daryl quickly. 

I guess we'd just all gotten fairly comfortable and that's why we were so taken off guard by the two dozen walkers who ambled into camp unnoticed at midday. Andrea's scream put us all into action, but we just weren't ready. Andrea went down first, with Dale pulling her away from a biter after it had already taken a piece of meat out of her neck. The sound of Daryl's bolts thudding into skulls were intermingled with gunshots from my Colt and Shane's Mossberg as T-Dog, Glenn and Merle scrambled for weapons.

I watched, helpless, as several of the walkers brought Dale down and started feasting on his quickly exposed entrails. Glenn cried out at the loss of his friend and got his hands on a bat, taking swing after crushing swing at skulls in the path between him and his people. Carol had both kids with her and had steered them into one of the cabins, and I nodded a thanks in her direction. Daryl was close behind her, firing his weapon and keeping himself between the kids and the walkers until they were safely inside. Michonne took one head smoothly off after another, calling for the walkers to follow her so she could swing the katana without our people too close.

Shane and T-Dog had both switched to knives as I fired my last round and fumbled to get the hatchet off my belt. Merle fired another few rounds then pulled his long knife out and wedged his way in front of his brother to fight by T-Dog's side.

But the gunshots had drawn another handful of walkers and several more surprised us coming from the woods, grabbing T-Dog from behind with a bite. And as Merle turned to stab T-Dog's attacker, another mouth appeared and sunk its hungry teeth into my lover's brother in slow motion as I screamed Merle’s name. There were maybe six walkers left that we could see. Daryl moved in close with the knife and I ran to his side. With Shane, Glenn and Michonne, we finished off the last six and then it was still. Silent. Nothing but the sound of the five of us breathing hard and the breeze dancing innocent and unaware in the tree branches above. 

"Carl!" I shouted, and ran to the cabin. He flew out the door and into my arms and Carol and Sophia stepped out. Carol sobbed "Oh God" as she looked around to take inventory. 

We lost Dale, Andrea and T-Dog. They were already gone, the mercy of knives to foreheads. Merle laid on the ground, Daryl on his knees by his side, signing and quietly sobbing. I put a hand on Daryl's shoulder and knelt by his side, hands on my knife, ready to deal the final blow to Merle to spare my lover the memory of it, but he glanced over to me in anger and pushed me away. I saw Merle's eyelids pop open into a vacant gaze. Holding the knife above Merle as his reanimated body started to rise, Daryl slammed the blade into his brother's skull nearly a dozen times, his awkward, quiet sobs interjected by the sounds of the blade slicing into dead flesh.

And like that, we were down four people.

The rest of the day everyone was on autopilot. Shane, Glenn, Michonne and Carol dragged their group's bodies to the graveyard they'd already created for the graves that held Andrea's sister, Carol's husband, two others from their original group, and a symbolic cross for Lori that didn't have a grass-bare bulge in the earth in front of it like the others.

Carl and Sophia sat nearby as graves were dug. No one talked. I dug for a few minutes trying to be supportive to everyone, but my eyes stayed on Daryl, who dug into the cold, dark earth alone across camp, Merle's body still laying where it ended. Michonne had tried to help him bring his brother’s body to the established graveyard with the others, but Daryl pushed her off. He didn't want to be with the group. He didn't want Merle to be with the group. They lived as loners, they would die as loners.

I made eye contact with Shane, both of us with eyes full of sorrow, and darted them to Daryl. 

"Go ahead," Shane nodded. He knew I had a soft spot for the Dixon brother. He wasn't aware of the depths of it. Only Merle had known that. But he knew that Daryl and I were... important to each other.

I walked slowly across camp to the sound of Daryl's shovel. A swoosh into the dirt then a splatter of loose earth tossed to the ground. He didn't even look up as I approached him, though I knew he could hear me. He tossed another shovelful of earth and pushed at me with an arm, not looking up. 

"Daryl, let me help," I said.

He scooped another load of earth and shoved into me with an arm, pushing me away and putting distance between us. I stumbled backwards a few steps from the force of it.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl. I saw you protecting Carl. I didn't do the same. Merle is my fault. It's on me."

He dropped his shovel and pushed into me again, fighting sobs and avoiding eye contact. I caught him in my arms and held him tight as he fought me. 

"Daryl!" I said in a hushed but authoritative tone. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I repeated, guilt soaking into my bones. He allowed me a few seconds of time comforting him before he pushed away from me again, picked up the shovel and dug back into the earth.

I realized, later than I wish I would have, that he didn't want the comfort, he just wanted to finish the task. I started shoveling with him, one of us digging into the earth as the other emptied their shovel into a growing pile of dirt and then vice versa, creating a steady pattern of sound.

Graves are harder to dig than they seem. Several hours later we'd replaced as much dirt as we could on top of Merle's buried body. Afterwards, Daryl finally dropped his shovel and sat. His head was buried in his hands and I suddenly ached from the lack of his eye contact. I sat by his side and tried to return what he had given to me when I saw Lori. Patience, attention and loyalty. I sat quiet and wordless, a hand on his knee to remind him that he wasn't alone.

Time passed in its vague way that could've been fifteen minutes as easily as it could have been two hours. Daryl turned to me and met my eyes.

"I don't want you here," he signed.

I didn't let it hurt me. "I'm sorry about that, Daryl. But I promised your brother that I would guard you like kin if anything ever happened to him. I'm not going to break that promise."

He kept his eyes on me, his emotions unspoken, but I could read them clear as a tear fell from his eyes.

"'S OK to cry. You know that," I said, looking away to give him privacy to mourn without unwanted attention.

He looked down and raked fingers through the soft, damp earth. After another hour of silence he signed, "I'm alone. I have nothing left." 

"Daryl," I said with a firm, but affectionate voice. "You have me. You will always have me. I know I'm not him. No one can replace him. But you will NEVER be alone."

When he didn't reply, I added, "He was a good man."

Daryl laughed and rolled his eyes.

"OK," I admitted, "He was an asshole to most people. But, Daryl... He was a great brother. He loved you. He loved you above everything else." 

He nodded and signed, "I don't feel good." It was probably not exactly what he meant, but as close as he could get with my expanding but still limited signing vocabulary. 

"I know, baby," I whispered, the first time I'd used a pet name. 

I saw Carl out of the corner of my eye approaching us with a plate. He knelt down in front of us and handed it to me. "Daryl, I'm sorry. Please let me know if I can do anything. I'm sure you aren't hungry. I wasn't when my mom died." He paused a few moments. "I thought you guys could share a plate. Maybe you could just have a few bites."

Daryl lifted his eyes to my son and nodded. "Thanks, Carl," I said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. He started to leave but hesitated and then sat beside me. 

"We can be your family now, right Dad?"

"We can. We are," I confirmed.

"See. You've still got me and Dad," Carl insisted as he leaned forward to look around me to the mourning Dixon by my side.

My heart hurt at my son's words. He probably heard similar sentiments from others in the camp when Lori was killed. Probably from Shane. I put an arm on his shoulder and squeezed. 

Daryl signed without eye contact, "I want to sleep."

"He wants to sleep," I told Carl. I stood and Daryl and Carl both followed my lead. 

I patted Carl on the back once we were in our cabin and told him I'd be in later.

I went into Daryl's room where he'd quickly retreated and buried himself under covers in the twin bed that had been Merle's. I sat on the edge and softly rubbed his back. Once the rise and fall of his chest spoke of sleep, I stretched out beside him, stationed close so he wouldn't feel alone when he woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe me- I'm upset too. In my outline, I had this planned for Merle. By the time I got to writing this chapter I was heartbroken to lose him. I even considered making radical changes to the fic, but alas, this was the story I planned. RIP Merle.


	16. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are still reading after the terrible fate that befell Merle and the others. Still more ups and downs to go. Stay with me!
> 
> Thanks to the invaluable Skarlatha (who just posted a stunning short one-shot yesterday- http://archiveofourown.org/works/4771931) check it out!!

The sound of birds signaled morning and I woke in the spot where I had fallen asleep next to Daryl. He was gone, the word "hunting" scribbled on a piece of paper in his place. "Goddammit!" I shouted, punching the headboard, irrational punishment for its lack of ability to wake me when Daryl was leaving.

"Fuck!" I shouted louder. I was still dressed from the day before so I immediately went to the kitchen to see if I could catch him, but I knew him and I knew he woke well before the birds. He was gone, but Carl sat alone at the kitchen table eating some kind of jerky for breakfast, an open comic book in front of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a hint of panic slipping into his voice. I ran a hand through my hair and then down along the growing stubble covering my jaw.

"Nothin', buddy," I tried to casually convince him as I started to pace. "Daryl went hunting and..."

"Daryl always goes hunting."

"With Merle usually, though. This morning he's alone and--"

"Not always with Merle. He's done it alone before." Carl was quickly starting to sound like the calm, rational adult in the conversation and that was just pissing me off more.

"But he's ...just ... He's distracted today. After Merle and ... It's..."

"Dad, Daryl and I have been talking. We're worried you think too much."

I stopped in my tracks, unsure of whether to be pissed or touched. 

"I'm going to look for him," I said, heading back to the room where I'd left my Colt.

"Ummm.... I think that would piss him off," Carl yelled after me.

"Well, maybe you're thinking too much," I snapped, then instantly felt pangs of regret. As I walked back to the kitchen holstering my gun, I met Carl's eyes. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to snap."

"Dad," Carl asked with a sincere look on his face, "I think maybe... Well, have you ever considered that maybe you like Daryl?"

"Of course I like Daryl," I answered, confused.

"No. I mean LIKE Daryl. Y'know like Neil from camp? How his two dads liked each other. You know..."

I laughed. I'm not going to lie, it may have sounded a touch hysterical. 

"I...why? I mean...Wh....Would it be OK if I did?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

I shrugged and took a quick drink from his water bottle. "Well, I'm gonna look a little. Just close by."

"Dad, seriously. You know him better than I even do. You know he's going to be pissed that you're babying him."

"Yeah, probably."

"Then why are you going?"

I blinked nervously and ran a hand through my hair. Why? Because the need to have him in my vision right now was so overpowering that I couldn’t fight it even if I tried. "Cause I like him. Like Neil's dad's kinda like, that OK?"

"'S fine. I'll smooth it over with him after you fuck it up."

"Carl!"

"Zombie apocalypse, Dad. Is cursing really a thing to get worked up over anymore? Pick your battles."

"Stay in the house," I mumbled. "I'll be back in a few."

It was sunny out. A powder blue sky with the fluffy, bright white kind of clouds. The beauty above mocking us, as the air surrounding camp still smelled like freshly turned earth, decay and lingering hints of burned walkers. Glenn stood by the remaining embers where the twenty-two walker bodies were set on fire the night before.

He nodded his chin at me as I made eye contact. 

"How ya doing?" I asked as my eyes raked across the tree line, ears perked up for any sound in them.

"OK," he answered unconvincingly. "How's Daryl holding up?" he asked half-heartedly, clearly more focused on his own grief.

"Went huntin’," I said, expecting him to gasp over the audacity of it. Hunting. Alone. After a day like yesterday.

"Probably just needs some time alone. Kind of a private guy, isn't he?"

Everyone's cavalier attitude about Daryl alone in the woods was boiling my blood. I wandered away from Glenn without responding, slowly walking to the break in the tree line where Merle and Daryl usually re-emerged after each hunting trip. 

I felt my belt and took comfort in the feel of my knife and hatchet strapped into place alongside the Colt.

"Rick?"

I turned on my heels to face Shane who had his arms full of firewood. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm just going to… uh." I pointed to the woods. I considered lying and faking a piss, but I was never good at lies. "Look around for Daryl. Went hunting alone this morning," I said, hoping for just a nod and an end to the conversation. 

Shane looked back to my cabin. "Where's Carl?"

"Inside. Eating breakfast with a comic book."

Shane re-positioned himself, heavy firewood shifting in his arms. "Kinda dangerous to wander out like that with Carl alone, isn't it?"

"Carl is safe in the house. Daryl is alone in the woods and just lost the only family he had. Lost the only substantial outlet available to him to communicate. He--"

"Don't need to sell me on your every move, brother. I was Carl's only guardian for a while. Guess I'm still a little overprotective."

I couldn't begrudge him caring about my son's safety, but I didn't like the thought of someone else fathering my boy when I was right here. I knew I was being irrational about everything right now but I couldn’t control it. 

"I’m only gonna be ten minutes,” I responded tersely. “You can feel free to check in on him if it makes you feel better. Ten minutes. I’m not putting him at risk here, Shane.” He stood, hesitant, looking to the cabin and then back to me. “Ten minutes," I said again and walked into the woods with purpose.

Finally alone in the trees, I tried to examine the ground the way I'd seen Daryl do it, but it was like reading hieroglyphics. I followed along the path that was worn out from previous trips, stopping to keep an ear out every fifty feet or so and looking back towards the campground to anchor my sense of direction. 

The whole time, I knew it was stupid. And Carl was right. Daryl would be mad. But I couldn't breathe without knowing where he was and knowing he was safe. My heart ached as I remembered every soft sob that came from him the night before. The look of loss and emptiness in his eyes. I just wanted to be with him and I'm not a patient person. It's a flaw I'm aware of, and when I want something bad enough, I'm going to act. Like when I wanted to find Carl.

My thoughts were stilled as an arrow blurred across my vision and lodged with a thud into a tree trunk beside me. I followed the direction of where it came with my eyes and landed on Daryl walking towards me, couple of squirrels around his neck and anger in his eyes.

"Why are you out here?" he signed.

"Just uhh, wanted to go hunting with you," I said, my voice guilty and already soft with apology.

His fingers moved more haltingly than usual. "You are not a good liar, Rick. You are babying me. I'm a grown man. A capable man. Strong. Don't need you out here. You'll get killed because you don't trust me to take care of myself." 

"I just was worried ‘cause... I worried you were upset and maybe not focused and ...I just worry if you run into the wrong people. You never are prepared for--"

He reached into his pocket and threw the paper and pen at me. Then he threw the squirrels.I picked them up and chased after him like a goddamn love-sick puppy as he stormed off in the direction of our camp.

"Daryl, I'm sorry. I..." I held up the pen and paper. "This is good! I feel better now that you're remembering to bring this stuff."

He turned on his heels. "Where's Carl?"

"He's fine. He's in the cabin. I've only been out here ten minutes." I’d noticed in the past few days that I'd started signing while I talked even though Daryl didn't need it. Merle used to do that. I guess maybe it was a subconscious way to practice words. To notice when I said one that I couldn't sign, that I need to ask about so I can learn.

"Don't die on him for me," Daryl signed and stormed back to the cabin with me still on his heels. 

He burst into the front door. Carl had moved to the couch and was sitting with his arms folded and an "I told you so" look on his face. Daryl stopped in front of me and moved his body so I could read his signs to Carl clearly, "Your father is an asshole."

Carl nodded. Of course he understood. I'd caught Daryl twice teaching him curses in ASL. I followed after Daryl and tossed the squirrels to Carl. "Go on out and gut 'em like Daryl taught ya. And stay near Shane."

Carl knew my "no questions" voice from before the end of the world, so he left with the squirrels as I opened the door that Daryl had just slammed behind him. He was against the window, hands dropped loosely by his side, ready to scream at me in his language. 

His hands moved sharply. "You worry too much. You think too much. This is the world now. You need to accept that this is the world now!" he signed, still with faster movements than the usual fluid way his hands moved through the air. I hadn't known "accept" so I signed it back to him with the question in my eyes so he could finger spell it for me.

I didn't respond at first. Then admonished myself for thinking too hard. I moved my hands with my words as I finally spoke. "I promised. I promised Merle I would guard you with my life. Please don't me mad. Please don't be… how do you sign 'disappointed'?" He showed me the sign, then I made the hand gesture and repeated the word.

"Not disappointed. Don't want you guarding with your life. Merle did. Always with me. And he stepped right in front of me and pushed me back. He took that bite. Like taking a bullet for me. Don't want anyone else dying for me," Daryl signed. 

I didn’t get all the words, but I got most and understood the gist of what Daryl was saying. Guilt. He'd been drowning in guilt since yesterday. "Daryl. I'm sorry."

Neither of us spoke with words or fingers, just with eyes, mine saying 'I understand why you are hurting' and his saying 'help me.'

"It's not one-sided. Don't just want to throw myself in front of walkers to protect you. Want us both to want to protect each other. And Carl."

Daryl kept his eyes on me, arms folded in a way that indicated he had nothing else to say. His bottom lip trembled as he fought back tears.

"You're only remembering one second of what happened. You were behind Merle when everything started. You moved in front to protect him first."

He looked at me, suspicious. 

"It's true. Think about it."

He started in on a nail, biting at a thumb as he was lost in thought. I gave him a few moments to look back into his memories. 

"You remember?" I asked.

He nodded and met my eyes, the anger and frustration melting away.

"I like being with you, Rick,” he signed. “But understand, sometimes I like to be alone."

I nodded. "I'm sorry. I understand. I'll... be less crazy. I'll give you space." I paused then said, "I can go out and help Carl with the squirrels so you can have some time."

"No," he signed quickly. "Stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise- you have a NICE chapter coming up next.


	17. A Moment Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Skari! This baby is closing in on the end, but alas- I already have another story in the works for you to beta! I'll never understand why you enjoy doing it- but I am eternally grateful!

Daryl telling me to stay made the world stop spinning and made all the noise in my head grow silent. All the aggravation and stress of the morning evaporated into thin air and we looked into each other's eyes, communicating silently. Just a passing back and forth of emotions and understanding.

I walked to him and pulled some dry leaves out of his hair, then threaded my fingers into the long strands that always covered his face.

"Daryl," I said softly, "you know, right? You know I'm in love with you." I felt like surely he should know this. He can read me like a book. But he’s not had a lot of experience being loved and although I think it’s obvious, he may not even understand what love looks like or what it sounds like. So I wanted him to know for sure.

He looked at me, skeptical and suspicious. "Why?" he signed.

"You got time? 'S a long list." Daryl tried to suppress a grin as I put my forehead to his. "You saved my life," I whispered into his ear, too close to sign with it. "You're kind and honest. You offered to help me find my son and you looked for him like it was your sole mission in life." I dotted his neck with kisses and felt the vibration of a swallowed moan as my lips pressed to his throat. "You're funny, smart. You're fucking beautiful. You taught my kid to fish. Your body feels right against mine. Your lips feel--"

His mouth sought out and covered mine before I could finish. His hands slowly tangled into my hair and his mouth opened to mine. He swept his tongue slow into me, and he spoke to me with his touch. I could feel it. The way he tilted my head, the gentleness of the kiss, his hands feeling their way down my back to my hips. One hand coming around to rest on my chest over my heart and I knew he was crossing his fingers there in the tight space between us. He loved me too.

I lazily pulled back, our lips smacking apart, and I held onto his crossed fingers at my chest. "Why?" I asked, wanting the same kind of reassurances.

Daryl backed up to the bed and scooted against the wall.

"Caring," he signed. "Sincere." He finger spelled that one cause he knew I didn't know it, then he showed me the sign again. "Funny, but not as funny as me." We both grinned and I climbed onto the bed but he held a hand up to keep me back and continued. "Determined. Never afraid. Learns with me. Baby me a little too much, but you make me feel whole and not broken. Talk to me like I'm normal."

"You ARE whole, normal," I whispered and signed. "You're everything." I pulled my shirt off over my head and he reached up to place both palms against me, slowly moving his hands down and around my pecs and abs, like he was shaping me out of clay. 

His hands came to my belt and he unbuckled it. Slid it out of my jeans so slow I thought I might burst in anticipation of his hands on me. The sound of the leather slipping through the loops of my pants was almost pornographic. I shoved his vest off his shoulders and pulled the T-shirt over his head. We kept our eyes on each other, different hues of blue blending together like paint on an artist's palette ready to turn blank canvas to a twilight sky against fierce ocean waves. 

We'd fooled around some in these weeks together, kissing and grinding, using mouths and hands hurriedly, but we'd only had actual sex once. I tugged Daryl's pants off and looked at him, naked and stretched out on the bed. 

"Will you do it this time?" he signed as he tried to duck bashfully behind his long bangs. I cocked my head at him. "That OK? What you want?"

"I want us both to feel everything," he signed, then he spread his legs and pulled his heels up on the bed, giving me access to every part of him. I felt a surge of possession. A sense of mine. He was mine. He was giving himself to me and I accepted. I wanted all of him. Wanted all of him so damn bad it was breaking me. 

He pointed to his backpack and I instantly understood and smiled wide. It took him weeks to remember to carry pen and paper, but apparently he didn't need nagging to keep lube nearby. "I like your sense of priorities," I said with a stifled giggle as I dug into the bag. "All the essentials--granola bars, jerky, bottled water, flashlights and lube. There's nothing else ya really need." I walked back to him with a crooked grin as he watched me, naked with my typical bow-legged saunter. He shot his eyes back to mine and with a sexy smirk signed, "Shut up and fuck me."

I realized as I was raking my eyes over him that I’d never felt this way. About anyone. I wanted to protect him, but I also wanted to curl up in his arms and let him protect me. Wanted to tell him everything. Every thought that popped into my head, from my hopes for the future to my regrets from the past. And I wanted to know everything in his head. I wanted to know what he'd been through. What his life was like before all this. What he wants his life to be now.

I crawled onto the bed so that I was above him and kissed him deep and hard, purposefully avoiding contact with his cock just to be a tease. He lifted his hips desperate for my friction. "So eager," I murmured into his ear then bit gently on the lobe and tugged. His soft panting against my ear was like the sound of gentle waves on a beach, lulling me into complete peace. His chest arched back up to mine and he fisted his hands in my hair. 

"You ready for me to open you?" I asked. He nodded with blown pupils and parted lips. I coated several fingers and sat Indian-style between his spread legs. His entrance looked impenetrable and my cock jumped at the thought of how tight he would be. I massaged his pucker and slowly slipped a finger in, watching closely as his breathing got more ragged. He was watching, fascinated. He always did that, watched things closely. Studied them. He was curious and that was another thing I loved about him.

He reached down and felt everything. Ran a hand down his cock, a quick squeeze to his balls and then felt the place where my finger disappeared.

"You like new things." I said. It wasn't a question. More of an observation. He nodded and signed "I like this" with his other hand. I took the hand that was exploring the edges of his entrance and manipulated it to face the right way, pressing his index finger against himself. “Want to slide your finger in with mine?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer because I could read him like a neon sign. He leaned up to see as much as he could as we slid in him and the pads of our fingers pressed together intimately deep inside. Our fingers danced and twisted together, stretching him for me. There was something about watching both of us in him. It was incredibly erotic. I searched for the spot in him that he’d found in me, wanting him to feel it, that amazing surge of ecstasy. I used my other hand to stroke his cock and finally felt him tense and gasp. “Do you feel it?” I asked and I doubled my efforts with my index finger along this place deep inside him that’s woken like a hibernating bear, suddenly alert and hungry. His body arched and stretched like it was chasing after the orgasm. 

He looked at me. He was ready. I knew without being told. Daryl and I could communicate with eyes and no words better than Lori and I could with two voices and a therapist. He met my eyes and the slight lift of a brow and subtle nod told me what he wanted. I slid my finger out and his came with me. Adding a little more lube to my cock, I stood over him and brushed hair back from his eyes. “Feels weird at first. Full. Stretched. But then gets… it just gets so … right, so perfect.” He nodded and I knew he was thinking “Just do it, already!” I slid into him slowly, giving him time to adjust, and it was incredibly clear as soon as I breached his entrance that he loved it. Loved the new feelings and the sense of being filled with me. He squirmed and panted and grabbed for my hips. With eyes locked, he nodded for me to move. And I did. 

He was tight. Warm. Welcoming. And watching his body respond below me as I thrust slowly into him was almost enough to make me spill, but I concentrated on staving it off. The whimpers that fell from me as I pumped in and out of him harder were far from manly. They were like cries from a desperate, helpless animal. I grabbed onto his cock knowing that I didn’t have much time. He wrapped his hand around mine and we pumped him together. He was so open and curious and excited about putting our bodies together. I wasn’t even done and I was already thinking about how to be with him next. What else we could do to make our bodies one, to bring each other to climax.

Daryl still had a hand on my hip and he squeezed and I knew that meant he was there. I let myself go and pulsed into him as I watched him arch a stream of himself onto his own chest. I pulled out and fell to the bed next to him, both of us panting like we just finished a marathon. I looked over and the only things I wanted to say to him were things there weren’t words for. The emotions I had when I looked into his eyes, wide in the afterglow, were inside me like bubbling lava in a volcano. I leaned back towards him and pressed my lips to his. It was the only way I could think of to express what was inside me. Still out of breath, we gasped at each other’s mouths but kept bringing our lips together, fitting them gently in spaces that were made for each other, licking at lips and sucking on tongues and moaning softly into each other. 

Eventually we pulled apart and I rested my head on his chest as he ran a hand up and down my back. I kissed his chest and sat up. The sun was high in the sky and there are chores to do and decisions to be made. 

“Carl’s skinnin’ your squirrels,” I said.

“Not enough food. I’ll take him fishing,” he signed, then he stood to pull on his pants. 

“Hey,” I said once his shirt was on and he was heading for the door. “I’m not interested in pretending. Out there, I mean,” and I flicked my eyes to the direction of the evening fire pit. “You gonna be uncomfortable if I, like, put a hand on your thigh or anything? In the open? No reason for us to hide… y'know… what we have."

His thumb went to his mouth at the thought of the others, even though the group was painfully smaller today than it was yesterday. He shrugged his shoulders, then bit at his bottom lip and signed, "Carl"?

"Carl informed me this morning that I was in love with you." 

He let his his lips curve into a full smile and his eyes lowered bashfully to the ground. "Does this mean I can grab your ass whenever I want?" he signed.

I laughed and nodded. "Yeah."

"OK, I'm in." He signed with his adorably shy grin. He started to turn then hesitated, walked back to me and pressed a quick kiss to my lips before he left to take my son fishing. I felt a sense of peace and home and rightness that I hadn't felt in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry to report that even though we are only a few chapters away from the finale- a lot of action and drama is afoot! Stay tuned!


	18. Plans And Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Skarlatha and thanks to all of you. Two more chapters after today!

I dressed and walked out to the center of camp where Carol sat holding the two squirrels over a low fire. 

“We eating that now?” I asked her as I watched Daryl and Carl walking towards the creek with their homemade fishing poles. We’d been more careful with quantities for meals and had started just having two small meals a day instead of three.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said as Shane dropped another bundle of wood beside us. “Didn’t eat breakfast yet.”

“Y’know, we’re gonna have to start talking about moving on,” I said, glancing up to Shane cautiously. It was decision time. Talk time. 

He looked down at me as I squatted to pile the logs and he sighed heavily with a hand rubbing over his head. 

“We can send a team to go back to one of those other camp grounds. Clean it out. Bring everything back here,” Shane suggested and I was already shaking my head no. 

“We can’t split up. You even said you’re without a vehicle because the last group you sent never came back.”

“We’re comfortable here, Rick. Safe,” Shane argued. 

“We just lost half our people. We’re too exposed. Can’t see anything through the trees. They’re on us too fast. We need to move everyone. Head together back to the vehicle we had. Ground should be dry, we can get it back on the road and--”

“Rick, this is our home now. You may have only been here a few weeks, but we’ve been here for MONTHS. Our people are buried here. T-Dog, Dale, Andrea…” Carol put an arm around Sophia as our pissing contest grew more heated.

“We can’t live for the dead, Shane.” Daryl and Carl appeared at my side and I realized our voices must have been a little louder than I’d thought. I twisted behind me to see Michonne and Glenn, hands full of rope and tin cans from an apparent attempt to put up an alarm system around camp.

I met Daryl’s eyes and saw solidarity behind them. He would back me up. “We having a meeting?” he signed, finger spelling the new word 'meeting.'

“Yeah, I guess we do need a meeting,” I said, eyeing Shane cautiously. Everyone sat around the fire in their usual spots, unintentionally leaving empty spaces for the ghosts of our dead. 

Shane remained on his feet and I raised out of my squat to stand tall with him. It would not be the first time we’d squared off in a disagreement. 

“What does everyone else think?” I asked, looking from face to face. “How much food is in the cupboards in your cabin, Michonne? We’re facing winter.”

Michonne opened her mouth to speak but Shane spoke over her. “I ain’t suggestin’ we sit here with our thumbs up our asses, Rick. I agree… we need supplies. We send out a team and stick to the area we know. You haven't run up against any other groups. It’s dangerous closer to civilization. We had to put people down. PEOPLE. To protect ourselves. You know the mob mentality Rick. We worked it. We were in it on the force. We--”

“I'm not saying we move into a high-rise in downtown Atlanta. We look for a place, a farmhouse out in the open, where we can see in all directions. Where we can all be in one house. Where we can keep cars and have an easy path in and out to get supplies.” I saw Michonne make a move to speak again as Shane turned to Glenn. 

“Glenn, you wanna go back down there? You wanna face more people like Gareth? You wanna kill--”

“GODDAMMIT, SHANE! Let me talk!” Michonne said in an uncharacteristic outburst. 

Shane and I both turned to her. “Sorry, ‘Chonne,” Shane said apologetically. “Go on.”

“Who exactly do you see making this trek back to the other campgrounds?” she asked. “Cause there aren’t many of us left and two of us are kids.” She looked over at Carl and Sophia and nodded to them. “Not that you aren’t fierce ass-kicking kids, but y’know, just a little short to be able to get a knife through the head if you need to.”

“Daryl’s teaching me to use the bow,” Carl said proudly. “I’ll be able to help soon.”

“When did this happen?” I muttered quietly to Daryl. He just shrugged, obviously wanting to stay out of it. 

“I figure we keep the kids here with Carol. I’ll go,” Shane said and he looked around the circle. “And I’ll take the two quietest weapons in case we run into trouble--Michonne and Dar--”

“No. No. Absolutely not. We are not splitting up like that. It’s too fucking dangerous. It’s--”

“DAD!” Carl shouted to get my attention. “Daryl’s tryin’ to talk to you.” 

I looked over to him and he signed, “Ask Carol and Glenn. Need everyone’s thoughts.” I looked over to them obediently. “He wants to know what you guys think,” I said to them.

Glenn shrugged. His eyes darted from Shane’s to mine. “I'd go along with whatever you guys decide is best." I'd already pegged him as a people-pleaser and a diplomat, so I wasn't surprised at his response. I looked to Carol.

"I just want us to be safe. Wherever that has to be..." she said, brushing back Sophia's hair with the palm of her hand.

"Well, I don't want to put the kids' lives at risk," Shane said defiantly. 

"Ain't your kids, Shane."

"Dad?" Carl said quietly.

"I was all he had for weeks, Rick."

"Dad?"

My eyes were lasered into Shane's. "Well, we ain't staying," I said firmly.

"Hey, Dad?" Carl squeaked again.

"CARL! Not now!" Shane yelled. Daryl stood, clearly disturbed at the aggression Shane aimed at my kid. And I turned my head back to Shane, putting my hand to Daryl’s chest, signaling to him that I had this. 

"Shane, you don't talk to my kid like that. He wants to speak, let him speak. Go on, son. I'm sorry," I said, dropping my hand to ruffle his hair. Daryl slowly lowered back to his seat.

“Maybe we all go,” Carl said. “See what the other cabins even have. If it’s enough to go for the winter, we stay. If not, we move on.” 

We all exchanged glances. I looked at Daryl and he simply signed 'yes.'

"Tomorrow then? First light?" I looked around to a circle of nods and Shane, who stood tight-lipped and stiff.

The rest of the day was tense. Shane and I were at odds. I was snapping at people. He was snapping at people. More than once, Daryl took me by my elbow and led me away from a confrontation, with Shane proclaiming that he was the one who's been in charge and protecting the group and me insisting that the status quo is not an answer. And every time Carl was near us he was pulled into our orbit. Shane sat him down to continue with lessons he'd started on tying knots and I knew it was on purpose to piss me off. That he was fathering Carl, had been fathering him so long that it was almost like he was a stepfather. And I'd react to it and alienate Carl, who was growing weary of the battle between two men he's admired all his life. Shane had been there for all of it. But for some reason, we now bared our teeth at each other over my boy.

At one point we argued over fish, Shane insisting that this part of the creek had been fished dry. Offering to go further up the creek with Carl. Putting his hand on Carl's shoulder when he asked, like it was his son and his right.

"Daryl fishes with Carl," I snapped. "That's Daryl's thing. Stop inserting yourself in every fucking thing that happens here. This isn't a dictatorship."

"If I wasn't the one calling the shots all this time Carl wouldn't even be here," Shane shouted. Carl slinked away, uncomfortable from the yelling and the focus on him.

Daryl tried to grab at my arm again and I pulled away from him. Before I could respond, Shane continued, "Fuck, Rick, you were the one walked away from him this morning, leaving him alone. That ain't a--"

I yanked away from Daryl's grip, pulled an arm back and punched Shane in the face. We were on the floor, Daryl grabbing at me and Michonne grabbing at Shane, Glenn's voice above us, "Guys, guys, guys..." 

We wrestled on the ground like we hadn't done since high school in anger over stupid shit like girls and sports. And right after Glenn's voice was the familiar sound of a cocked gun. Whether in the apocalypse or before it, the sound of a gun hammer being pulled back elicits the same response. We both froze and looked to Carol who stood above us, aiming.

"Knock it off. The both of you," she said with an eerie calm for someone who I don't think had any weapons experience before the world turned. "This is a pathetic pissing contest. All that matters is staying together and staying alive. Stop this shit."

Daryl went to her side and put a soft hand on her shoulder and she let him gently take the gun. Shane and I got back to our feet, dusting ourselves off. 

"Nothing else needs said until we get to the next campground tomorrow. We've already made that decision for the next step. Let's just get through the night without killing each other," she said. Shane walked off wordlessly to his cabin with Michonne on his heels.

I looked to Daryl and made the thank you sign and he nodded. "Gotta take a piss," I mumbled, "and get some air. Be right back."

I stormed off into the woods and as soon as I hit the edge my eyes burned with tears. I was frustrated. Still upset that our camp was breached and that we suffered so many losses the day before. Exhausted from trying to be strong for Carl. For Daryl. For all of them. I got far enough into the woods that I had some privacy and I leaned against the far side of a tree and let myself cry. I hadn't cried since Lori. And before that... I don't even remember. Nothing was tear-worthy before the end of the world. 

As nice as the world felt earlier in Daryl's arms, it was still going to be a complicated and dangerous life. After maybe ten minutes of crying so hard that I brought up last night's dinner, I told myself that this was the world now. It just was what it was. And I suddenly wanted nothing more than the comfort of an evening back in my cabin. Daryl by my side with the sign language book across our laps. Carl across from us flipping through a comic book, pretending not to be as interested in the signing lessons as he was. Peaceful. 

I pulled myself together and headed back to camp. As soon as I saw Carol I knew something was dreadfully wrong. Her eyes had gone dark. "Shane's looking for you," she said as she handed me a piece of paper. "Daryl gave us this." I took it and read my lover's familiar handwriting.

CARL'S GONE. COULDN'T FIND YOU. GOING TO LOOK FOR HIM.

I immediately felt empty. Stripped of everything and anything that mattered in this world. No longer headstrong about staying or going now. I just wanted my family.

"Which way?" I asked as I started moving in the direction of the creek. She nodded and pointed to it. 

"I think he was gonna follow the creek maybe? What's this mean?" she asked as she fluttered her fingers. 

"Stream," I answered and ran to the edge of it as I felt for the security of my Colt, my knife and my hatchet.

I followed the stream and saw the occasional footprint. Only one foot pressed hard into the dirt every fifty feet or so and I knew that was Daryl's way of leaving an easier trail for me. It took a concerted effort not to scream their names, but without a cabin nearby to retreat into, it wasn't wise to draw attention. 

After twenty minutes I saw Daryl's print point in another direction, away from the creek. There were scuff marks in the dirt. I didn't know what that meant but I started to hear my own heartbeat louder than the sound of the flowing water beside me. I drew my gun and aimed into the woods in the direction of Daryl's foot. Gut feelings. They served me well in the before-times so I trust in following them now as well. 

Daryl chose this new direction very purposefully. My tongue felt thick as my mouth grew dry. "Carl!" I risked whispering. I kept my eyes to the ground for Daryl's clues with occasional glances up to sweep the woods before me. And that's when I spotted something out of place. Harsh white against the peaceful browns and greens of the forest floor. Time slowed and my heart sped as I bent down to retrieve a piece of Daryl's paper. 

I read his side of a conversation and my blood went ice cold.

PLEASE DON'T HURT THE BOY.

I CAN HUNT FOR YOU. TAKE ME AND LEAVE BOY.

WHATEVER YOU WANT

ME=BETTER. CAN'T YELL, CAN'T SHOUT.

Before me were a few deeply pressed footsteps showing me the way to my family. I checked my gun and found two bullets and one in the chamber. FUCK. 

I moved quieter but quicker, keeping an ear out for voices. I couldn't be that far behind. I tried to remember how long I sat in the woods pitying myself. Ten minutes? Twenty? And then I heard them. Deep voices up ahead, not yet close enough to understand. And I heard a gasp and sob from my son. I knew every sound of his. These sounds were fear.

As I approached the side of an old dirt road keeping hidden in the thick brush, I saw our mud-covered SUV and four strangers, Daryl on his knees before one and Carl held with arms behind his back by another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!!! What will become of our boys!!?


	19. To protect and to be protected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Skarlatha for her tireless beta'ing and her support in real life during a crazy tough week. 
> 
> This is the final chapter before Tomorrow's epilogue.

"...we'll see then," a bulky guy with grey hair was saying.

"Leave him alone," Carl pleaded. 

I calculated my options. I had the element of surprise. The upper hand.

"How come Joe gets to go first?" one of the other men asked.

"Fuck, I ain't in a hurry ta go first. Could be the kinda guy that bites it off," another responded.

Joe laughed long and lazily as he used one hand to unbuckle his belt, a gun to Daryl's head in the other hand. "He ain't gonna do nothin'. He knows I got a gun to his head and you got one to his boy's." I watched as Daryl looked up at Joe, his hands bound. He wasn't shrinking into himself like he tended to in groups. He was kneeling tall, actually, trying to keep the attention on himself and off my son.

"You understand that don't ya, Daryl?" Carl must have used his name and the sound of it on this man's tongue made me sick. I watched Carl and tried to gauge how much attention that dirtbag holding his arms was paying to him and how much of his attention was distracted with Daryl's mouth and the show that was starting.

"Want it nice, now sweetheart. You get us each off like a good boy and we'll consider leavin' the kid behind."

"I'm not leaving him!" Carl choked out between sobs. And as everyone's attention turned to my brave kid, a laugh rumbling from Joe, I slowly stepped up to the closest guy and put my gun against his head, the sound of the hammer clicking into place bringing everyone's eyes to me.

"Untie him and take your hands off my kid," I said, keeping my voice steady and my eyes deadly.

Once the surprise passed, Joe laughed again. "You can go ahead and take Len out. We ain't that tight of a group."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Joe?" the guy on the end of my gun asked nervously.

"But just so's ya know, soon as you shoot, I'ma put one here in Daryl's head and Pete there's gonna break your boy's neck."

"Ain't right, Joe," Len said cautiously.

As a few tense words were exchanged between the two men, I glanced to Daryl's eyes. He moved his bound hands slowly and signed as best he could with the limitations, but I understood. "Don't think. Shoot leader."

My mind cleared. All thoughts gone but one. And I swung my weapon to Joe and fired. Brought it back to Len and fired. Both men dropped instantly from my head shots. The third started to run and Daryl tripped him, stood and swung his heavy boot into the man's skull over and over until he was gone from this earth.

I walked with purpose to my son and pressed the barrel of the gun to the fourth man's head as he drew a knife and held it to Carl's throat. He stuttered and begged, "Please, man. I wasn't gonna do nothing. Just following Joe, man. He's--" 

I pulled the trigger just as Daryl got to us and he pulled Carl away from the falling blade and the collapsing body. Carl tucked under his bound hands to wrap arms around him as I looked at the bloodshed at our feet. Four men. In cold blood. And I'd do it again without a second thought to save my family. 

"Carl," I said, and he turned and buried himself in my arms. "'S OK. Buddy. We're all OK." I hugged him tight against me. His sobs continued and I looked to Daryl who stood patient with his hands still bound, and he lifted them, slow and hesitant, then gently stroked his fingers through my son’s hair to help comfort him. After a while, Carl’s breaths grew a little steadier. I took my knife out and with Carl still pressing himself tight against me, I cut the ropes from my lover’s wrists. 

"You protected my son," I whispered. And I leaned in and kissed him right in front of Carl. 

"I knew it," Carl whispered, still latched on to my side.

\--------------

When we returned to camp all the tensions were gone. I could tell Shane had been crying by the red rims of his eyes. We walked in, blood splattered from the slaughter. 

Michonne reached a hand back to her sword. "Should we be worried about company?" she asked, looking past me.

I shook my head. "All dead," I muttered.

Daryl had gotten a couple squirrels on the way back to camp and he immediately set to skinning them and preparing them for dinner. He’d want to focus on a task for a while before he was ready to talk. This I knew.

No one bombarded us with questions and for that I was grateful. I took Carl into the cabin with me. I hadn’t let go of him, a hand on his shoulder the entire walk home. When we were alone I sat down with him. I was worried. I wasn’t even there until the end, and even I felt the fear and the uncertainty and a new bloodlust growing in myself. A sense of us and them. And the “them” is absolutely anyone that isn’t us. People were untrustworthy. They were more dangerous than the dead. And that Carl had to find that out this way, crushed me. 

“Worried about you,” I said simply.

“‘M OK.” he said trying to make his voice sound older than he was. As if he was trying to comfort me. 

“‘S’OK to not be OK,” I told him, lessons from old marriage counselors. I guess some of that shit came in handy.

“I know,” he said, still feigning bravery. He leaned back on the sofa beside me and looked through the wall before him, staring at something that wasn’t there.

“That was scary,” I said in a continued attempt to get him to talk. To stay engaged with me.

“Yeah.” He paused and I gave him some silence to fill if he wanted. And after the minutes ticked away, he finally laid down and put his head on my lap like he use to when he was five. I rubbed his back. “Daryl was gonna… He was protecting me.” He took a shaky breath before he continued. "I’m glad nothing happened to him. Woulda felt guilty the rest of my whole life. I'm so sorry I walked off."

“Everyone’s fine,” I reminded him. “We’re all gonna be OK.”

“I wouldn’t have let them take him, Dad. Just so you know. I would have fought them.” 

It was us and them. My son knew this now. 

"We all have each other now. We all protect each other," I said softly as I brushed at his hair with my fingers. "That makes us all stronger and safer. You ARE a man now, Carl. This world speeds that up. You know now to stay together. And I'm very proud of the fight you had in you to protect our people. We learn and we move on and we grow stronger." I gave him a moment. "Ok, son?"

He nodded in my lap. A man now, but still always my boy. 

"Love you, Dad," he said.

"Love you too, buddy."

\---------------------

I didn't chase after Daryl to get him to talk the way I did with Carl. It wasn't the same. I've learned he needs time to process. 

That evening we ate dinner--some of our precious canned goods-- and I mentioned that the SUV was about a mile or two up the hill now. We decided, with Shane's agreement, that we should all hike out to the vehicle and go house hunting in the morning.

That night I tried to keep things normal, Daryl next to me as I flipped through pages of my book. Carl on the floor below us, leaning against Daryl's legs, playing solitaire. It was home and if we left tomorrow and never came back, I knew I'd be home the next night too. Because home is Carl and Daryl. 

Later, Carl declared that he was old enough to sleep in his own room. He winked at me and shut the door behind him. When Daryl and I were alone, I pulled him into a hug and he dropped his head to my shoulder.

"You OK?" I asked.

He nodded against me. 

"Thank you for protecting him." I felt my voice betray me, shaking on the last two words. Daryl slipped out of my embrace but stayed close and signed, "I will never let anything happen to him. Or you."

"You keep saving my life. Been doing that since the day we met," I said with a humble smile. He shrugged and waved in that way he had, acting like it was no big deal.

"You just saved mine, so we're even," he signed. I put a hand gently to his face and ran my thumb over one of the bruises he'd gotten earlier.

"I'll kill anyone that..." I couldn't bear the thought of what could have been, after he'd been through so much pain and hurt in the before-world. He looked away as I spoke, but he was listening and finding comfort in it, I could tell. "I will kill anyone," I said, just leaving it that simple. He nodded and it meant he was thankful and appreciative and he would kill too. For me and for Carl. We both had already. And we would do it again.

I shifted on the couch so that I was leaning into him, allowing him to comfort me. He preferred that to being babied. I knew that. We sat in a comfortable silence while the crickets grew louder and the night grew darker. 

"You're my home," I finally said. "You and Carl." And I feel safe with you. And I'm not afraid when you're with me."

When we finally decided to crawl into bed together, we quickly fell asleep, exhausted and wrapped tightly in each others' arms. 

\--------------

When I woke the next morning, I turned to face a sheet of paper and immediately bolted upright and grabbed it. The tension in my shoulders softened immediately as I read.

RICK,

DONT PANIC. I'M OUT BY THE FIRE. I JUST COULDN'T SLEEP CAUSE MY MIND WAS FILLED WITH YOU. THOUGHT I'D… Y'KNOW... WRITE YOU A LOVE NOTE. IT'S STUPID, I KNOW. BUT ALL THE TIMES YOU'RE TELLING ME YOUR FEELINGS I ONLY GET TO RESPOND IN SNIPPETS. I WANT A CHANCE TO BE ABLE TO BE ALL ELOQUENT. SO HERES SOME MUSHY STUFF. PLEASE EAT THIS NOTE AFTER READING. 

I NEVER HAD MUCH IN LIFE. BEST THING I HAD WAS MERLE. LOVED HIM OF COURSE. BUT IF HE'S THE BEST THING OUT OF MY WORLD, YOU CAN IMAGINE THE SHIT IT WAS. NEVER THOUGHT I DESERVED NOTHING BETTER THAN WHAT I GOT DEALT. NEVER WANTED ANYTHING BETTER THAN I GOT DEALT. NEVER THOUGHT I NEEDED IT.

NEVER HAD FRIENDS OR LOVERS. AND NOW I GOT BOTH IN YOU. AND NOW I WANT AND I NEED. I DONT REALLY KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED BETWEEN US BUT I'VE NEVER HAD THIS KIND OF... CONNECTION. I LIKE BEING UNDERSTOOD FINALLY. YOU SEE ME AND YOU HEAR ME AND YOU UNDERSTAND ME.

I LOVE YOU AND I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU. AND I KNOW YOU WILL DO ANYTHING FOR ME. 

YOU BABY ME AND YOU NAG ME. BUT IF YOU HADN'T I MAY NOT HAVE HAD THE PAPER AND PEN TO BUY TIME WITH CARL. I MIGHT BE HARD TO LOVE SOMETIMES. I'M STUBBORN. I CAN BE GROUCHY AND TOO SHY. I CAN BE MOODY. BUT I HOPE YOU WON'T GIVE UP ON ME. BECAUSE I'M ALSO LOYAL AND HONEST. AND, RICK, I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH AND I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AND CARL.

YOURS,  
DARYL 

I got dressed and folded the note carefully, slipping it into my pocket. Daryl stood by the fire against the early morning sun, Shane and Michonne sitting on logs nearby. 

I marched up to him, eyes never leaving his, took him in my arms and kissed him. It was deep and passionate like an intense conversation. I let my lips and tongue respond to his note and I knew he understood every unspoken word.

"Jesus. You weren't fucking kidding," I heard Shane say. 

"Told you so," Michonne responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what everyone thinks! The epilogue is tomorrow, then it's time for me to get moving on my next fic!! Thank you all so much for your support and your comments!


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Skarlatha for her tireless beta'ing of this fic and for alread starting to work on my next one!
> 
> Thanks to all of you who made some stressful real life weeks much more bearable with your kind and supportive comments. Writing Rickyl is huge joy for me, and I'm so glad that it gives so many others happiness as well. 
> 
> Here it is folks- The Epilogue-

I watched Daryl hold the crossbow. His arms were so strong and the way he stood with it against his shoulder almost made me dizzy with desire, even after all this time. He lowered the bow and threw it back over his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh as he locked my eyes.

"Are you even paying attention?" he signed.

"Yeah," I grinned. 

"No you aren't. You're looking at my ass."

"That's bullshit and you know it," I said adamantly. He waited with his eyes on me, a knowing brow raised. "I was looking at your shoulders,” I conceded. “They're all broad and muscley." I squeezed one of his biceps to emphasis my point. He made a show of pretending to pull away but flexing his biceps as he did it. He was a shameless flirt.

"Did you take me all the way out here for crossbow lessons or somethin’ else?" he signed, grinning.

"Umm… both?" I said. And he kept his eyes on me again, drowning me in blue as his lip already started to quirk up on one side. He knows me. He knows what's in my mind before I can even transfer my thoughts to words. "OK,” I admitted, “Don't really care about learning the crossbow. I'll leave that to Carl."

Daryl's body language changed as soon as I mentioned my son. He went from a teasing flirt to a proud teacher. He smiled full and started signing enthusiastically. "Have you seen him shoot? He's better than I was at that age. Yesterday he hit one of the targets I set up at center mass!" He finger spelled "mass" and showed me the new sign. 

It’s been six months since we left our campground, but I'm still learning new words every day. More important, I’m learning his body language, the way he looks at me and what all his touches mean. A soft touch to the elbow means 'come here, I want to share my thoughts with you in private.' A hand squeezing my knee when we sit thigh to thigh means he agrees with what I'm saying. A bump of our shoulders means he thinks I'm being cute. His gaze lowering to my lips and back up to my eyes means he wants me…. now. A hand rubbing my back means he's happy. And bringing his forehead to my shoulder means he's sad. These aren't things that we learned from a book or even from a discussion. These are just things I know.

His gaze dipped to my lips and back up and I glanced over at the nearby outbuilding. Shane had a sock near the door so we could flag each other when it was in use. He and Michonne used it every bit as much as we did. As soon as we slipped into the old shed (and put the sock on the rusty knob of the door) Daryl used his lips and tongue to tell me how badly he wanted our bodies to be together. And I responded with groans and sighs, pressing him to the wall and grinding slow against him. His fingers danced over my skin as we kissed, still enjoying the taste of each other and the discoveries we make as we explore one another’s bodies. We teased and played with the new information we’d been learning. He really likes when I bite and tug on his bottom lip. And I like when he kisses me with short quick pecks, stopping after each to look into my eyes. He likes to run his fingers along my hipbone and I like to rake my hands through his hair.

Later that night after my ‘not really crossbow lesson’, we sat on the porch of the old farmhouse we’d found four months prior. It feels like I’ve been here forever, though, with Daryl by my side. I can barely remember what it feels like not to love him.

Time is a funny thing, really. Sometimes there are minutes that seem like hours. Like hiding under a car waiting for a small herd of walkers to pass. Sometimes it's hours that seem like mere minutes. Like cuddling against Daryl and watching day turn to night from setting sun to star-filled sky. 

Time is not like it used to be and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Before, time meant Monday mornings and rush hour and bills coming due and getting your taxes done on time. It meant being late for things or always being double-booked. Always checking the calendar. We don’t live like that anymore. 

We don’t put things on a calendar. If I want a private night with Daryl, we have one. If I want to play catch in the yard with my son, I do. If we need supplies or food, we go on a run or go hunting. Sometimes there’s danger and we do what we need to do. We hunt, scavenge, eat, sleep. We don't have TV or iPhones or laptops or video games or texting or Facebook. We only have each other and the bonds we have in this life are stronger than any from the before-world. We would kill or die for each other. All of us. None of us have said it out loud. But we don’t need to. 

Daryl and I have the same goals in this new world. To keep each other safe and to keep Carl safe. There's this thing we do now, when we're sitting together on the front deck, me between Daryl’s legs, leaning back against his chest. We talk. I use my voice and he uses touches, subtle nods of his head that I can feel behind me and he reaches around me and signs so that I can read his words from inside his arms. It’s intimate and comfortable like soft whispers brushed against my ear.

“Are you thinking?” Daryl signs from behind me, arms reaching around.

“No. Not really,” I answer. And I wasn’t. I was just being alive in Daryl’s arms. It was peaceful and quiet. He knew I wasn't thinking. He only asked to point it out to me, to show me how nice it feels just to be. There was no need to talk, over-analyze or worry. All I needed to do was sit there and be loved. He didn’t need to say it or sign it. It’s unspoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. I'd love to hear your final thoughts. I'll miss talking to each of you in comments daily, but I'll be back again with another daily long fic before you know it!
> 
> As a reminder- I'm on tumblr as TWDObsessive!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a slow build between my guys. Hope it works! If you have time to leave me a comment, I'd love to hear what you think!


End file.
